


Oh No, Not Again

by VMorticia



Series: Random Fics I'm Probably Never Going To Finish... [4]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bisexual Steve Rogers, Crack Treated Seriously, Female Steve Rogers, Gender Issues, Gender or Sex Swap, Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Virgin Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:54:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 39,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24220915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VMorticia/pseuds/VMorticia
Summary: In which I try to write a serious character study of Steve Rogers... then throw an alien-sex-change-ray-gun at him, but otherwise keep treating the story seriously.
Series: Random Fics I'm Probably Never Going To Finish... [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1563013
Comments: 27
Kudos: 44





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic's title comes from a combination of the fact that I've done this before (you can find the work in question on ffnet, by Bella The Strange, it's titled Female of the Species), and am in fact using the Exact Same alien-sex-change-ray-gun from that fic, because I can... and the fact this isn't poor Steve's first dramatic full-body-transformation (albeit, this one's probably a whole lot less welcome).
> 
> Disclaimer: I own as much as Jon Snow knows. Characters' opinions are not necessarily a reflection of the author's.

\---

Steve Rogers had felt adrift, ever since he had woken up in the year twenty-twelve.

He had been in grief and mourning when he had gone on that last mission. He could objectively admit - to himself, if no one else - that he hadn't looked very hard for alternatives to crashing the plane... there  _ probably _ hadn't been any other choice, he  _ had _ tried everything Peggy had suggested... but he'd also been a bit too quick to accept it, as well. There had still been good things waiting for him, if he had found another way, but the loss of the man he loved like a brother had weighed heavily on his choices that day.

And now, well... everyone he knew was either very old, or dead. Everything he had known had changed, and there was nothing he could do about that. He had made his choice - his heroic sacrifice - and he was still here. It almost felt like somehow he'd failed, even though he had achieved the goal of the mission.

If he had wanted to sit down with a therapist about it, he might admit that he had probably never valued his own life too highly, pre-serum, either. When everyone tells you you're that weak, you've really only got two choices: fight to prove them wrong, or internalise the message that you're worth less somehow. He'd managed to do both.

In spite of being willing to die a hero, however, he was not willing to just give up, now that he had survived. Instead, he tried his best to adjust to this new situation. Tried to catch up with the world that had moved on without him. SHIELD gave him all the resources he needed to learn the history he had missed, and the changes in societal expectations since his own time.

SHIELD... founded by Peggy Carter and Howard Stark, in honour of Steve's memory. Yet somehow the whole organisation felt a little off to him. Too cold and detached. He attributed it to the fact that almost everything in this new era felt that way to him. It was almost glaring in its wrongness, but that couldn't be Howard or Peggy's fault. It had to be the new century feeling wrong to his apparently now old-fashioned mind.

The first thing they recommended he learn, to adapt to this new era, had been the Internet. It was, apparently, the best tool for accessing information, in this time. It was so ubiquitous and popular that libraries were struggling to remain open, because all you could find in books you could now also find 'online'.

Contrary to the opinions most of the SHIELD agents he met in his first few weeks seemed to hold, all the components that made up this technology had existed in his time, they just hadn't been commonplace, nor had they been so compact and efficient. Steve had seen computers, in the SSR bases both in New York and London; those had been very advanced for the time, and were key to the success of the war effort. He had worked with the analogue versions of all of the elements of the Internet: typewriters, indexes and filing, video and news media. The idea of putting all of it onto the much sleeker, cheaper, mass-produced computers available in this time, and in spite of the fact certain people at SHIELD insisted the idea of connecting them through the phone lines was new, Steve knew that science fiction novels had suggested the idea of a global information network, well before his time - Bucky had  _ loved _ those novels. It all seemed perfectly sensible to Steve, if a bit of a challenge to learn how to actually use it all. At the very least, the concepts were not at all shocking or confusing in the way some of the SHIELD agents seemed to expect him to react.

That was one of the things that made him uncomfortable with SHIELD. There was an undercurrent of condescension among them, as though they believed he was less intelligent simply because he had yet to learn everything about this new era.

He probably could have distanced himself from SHIELD, had he set his mind to it. He was still a US Army Captain: he could go to the military, and either reenlist or direct their attention to the contract he had signed, related to the use of his likeness for propaganda and media; he was entitled to a very small percentage, but over sixty-eight years and the vast quantity of merchandise bearing his face, that would add up to more than enough to set himself up independently. That much, he was able to calculate without a computer, thank you very much.

But he didn't like the idea of pulling on that leverage if he didn't need to. Both the principle of the matter; it would feel sleazy to force a financial issue like that, and practically speaking; if he  _ were _ to make use of that option, he'd prefer it be when he really needed it.

Besides, SHIELD were offering him free room and board, while he regained his bearings. Fury had made it perfectly clear what they wanted from him. This 'Avengers Initiative' looked like a very good idea, on principle, and Steve felt it was a fair trade for what they were giving him.

It was disconcerting how spacious their 'basic accommodations' were, compared to what he was used to. He had shared the tiniest apartment in an overcrowded tenement building with his best friend, then he'd gone to war and realised he'd had it good before. The suite SHIELD gave him was at least three times the size of his old apartment, and he didn't quite know what to do with so much extra space. He commented on it, and at first they mistakenly thought he was complaining that it was too small!

They gave him a laptop computer (StarkTech brand), and offered him basic lessons. He probably could have read the manual, but didn't want to be rude. At least the computer tutor they gave him was polite, friendly and helpful. Her name was Alice, she was young, bright, and - unlike a lot of the other agents - she had done her research for the assignment of 'helping Captain America adjust to the modern era', and thus actually knew what would and would not be helpful information for him.

The only fault he could pick with her was that it really looked like she was chosen for said assignment because she looked a bit too much like Peggy: she even had an English accent, albeit from a very different part of England than Peggy's had been. She noticed his discomfort with that almost immediately, and the second day he saw her she wore modern clothes and a completely different hairstyle. Oddly enough, that did succeed in putting him more at ease, because it didn't feel forced.

She was the one who explained a lot of modern societal standards to him, and warned him not to 'freak out' when he saw the price of basic groceries, because inflation was - her words - 'a bitch'. "I mean, I'm only twenty-two, and I get the 'that was cheaper when I was a kid' thing. I can only imagine it must be a whole lot worse for you."

Within the first few months of waking up in this new era, he had figured out most of the basics. He was now proficient in the use of Google, Wikipedia, and Amazon. He had his own email address; two of them, actually: one that SHIELD had given him, and one he had gotten for himself. Even banks were on the Internet, now, and he had been given a whole string of numbers and passwords to manage the pay-cheques SHIELD had started giving him online. They gave him oddly pitying looks when he had asked for the physical address of the bank, but at least they did give him that information as well.

He had gone out and bought himself a 'smart phone'; the salesman recommended the StarkTech brand, claiming it was just as good as carrying a full-sized computer in the palm of your hand... and Steve did gravitate towards that name, due to the familiarity. It didn't take him long to figure out how to make and answer calls, send and receive texts, access the Internet, and check his email with it. He wasn't sure if it was perhaps a bit paranoid that he only put his personal email on the phone, and used the laptop for the SHIELD one, but he didn't feel comfortable mixing what was essentially his work and his private life. He had yet to figure out how 'apps' worked (or even exactly what they were), or how to make the phone remember numbers (which Alice insisted it could do), but other than that, it was a fairly useful tool. It was also  _ his _ , unlike the laptop which was SHIELD's.

He had also acquired a credit card, after a few people gave him weird looks paying for things with cash, the first time he had gone out on his own - when he had asked about it, Alice had explained the glory of paying with plastic to him, as if it were her one true love, and it did sound convenient.

He had also read up on all the major events of the late twentieth century, and figured out the basics of modern societal norms. The differences were still a bit jarring, and he took comfort in things that he found familiar from before... but they were few and far between, and many of the people he met seemed to have a skewed view of what 'old things' were actually from Steve's time, and what were from anywhere between two centuries ago and two decades ago.

When the Incident happened, it felt almost like just another mission.

There was the Tesseract, again. There was an evil megalomaniac trying to use it to wage war, again. There were exceptional individuals with disparate personalities fighting seamlessly as one, by his side, again (the Howling Commandos might not have had super-powers, but they sure weren't ordinary soldiers, either). There was a weapon aimed at New York, that one of them had to send off course, almost to their death, again.

There were other similarities, too...

Coulson's death.

Thor and the Hulk both falling from the Helicarrier... Tony falling from the portal.

But he didn't want to think about those.

In the aftermath of the battle, Steve realised how bad he felt, for what he had said to Tony on the Helicarrier... especially after the whole nuke, portal, falling... thing.

He had accused the man of not being the type to lay down on the wire, only to watch him do  _ exactly that _ , mere hours later.

Tony Stark - and it was incredibly difficult for Steve to think of him as anything other than Howard's son; a comparison which the SHIELD file claimed would only infuriate Tony - invited the whole team out to eat right after the battle. Except for Tony, they were still in their combat gear, even. As they ate, Tony lavishly offered to host the whole team in his New York skyscraper tower, telling them all how he could customise an entire one of the top seven floors for each of them.

Bruce Banner was eager to accept the offer, especially once Tony started on about ultra-durable building materials and a secure safe-room for the Hulk. Steve had read the files SHIELD gave him on his fellow Avengers, before the mission, and while the files tried to paint Bruce as a bit of an outlaw, Steve had read between the lines and seen that it was in fact an Army General, named Thaddeus Ross, that was the one who crossed all those lines. He had also read a similarly unflattering report of Tony Stark's legal battle with that same General, where Tony had successfully denied Ross access to his armour's technology. He could imagine Tony and Bruce would get along very well, based on that history and their shared passion for science.

Steve had a very particular opinion on government oversight, in matters like this, and it was that if the true owner was using it responsibly then the government should just back off, only being allowed to step in if it was proven that such actions would prevent the violent misuse of dangerous technology. The worst Tony was 'misusing' his armour was for the occasional joy ride; harmless enough, and Steve was personally unlikely to complain about a Stark going flying where he shouldn't. General Ross had in fact been the one to misuse the Hulk experiments, creating the Abomination, thus being responsible for nearly levelling Harlem, and threatening to violate Bruce's basic human rights. Bruce's own body was the weapon there, by the fact it could turn into the Hulk... and he had signed up to the Avengers and agreed to use that power responsibly.

There was no conflict there, in Steve's mind. General Ross was the bad guy, plain and simple.

Thor politely declined Tony's offer, stating he wouldn't be on Earth long, nor often enough in the future, to make use of such facilities. Tony just said, "I'll keep a room for whenever you drop by, just in case."

Given that Thor was alien royalty, it was likely his good-natured nod and acceptance of that arrangement was due to being accustomed to being offered nothing less from the other realms he was Prince of. He still declared Tony, "A good friend and shield-brother," all the same.

Natasha Romanoff and Clint Barton both told Tony he didn't need to bother, as they already had accommodations with SHIELD. Tony positively pouted at this rejection of his hospitality.

Steve considered accepting, if only to get away from some of the discomfort he felt around SHIELD, but he didn't really know Tony that well, and if the only other Avenger to accept was Bruce... if the other two SHIELD-affiliated teammates had declined, he probably should as well.

Before he could answer, Natasha was continuing on from her own refusal, asking Tony about working with SHIELD in the future. About new engineering projects they could use his help with. Tony looked hesitant, but intrigued all the same.

Steve sat back from that conversation, and looked to Thor, who sat next to him. "Where did the Tesseract come from, anyway?" he asked, carefully trying to maintain a conversational tone.

Thor grinned broadly at being asked a question he could answer. "It was once the jewel of Odin's treasure vault. One of the most powerful artefacts in the universe, so potentially dangerous that we of Asgard decreed it must never be allowed to fall into covetous hands. We used it only once, to create the Bifrost: our means of travelling between realms, and we must take it now to repair the damage caused to the Bifrost a year ago. Then it will be returned to the vault, where I feel it should have stayed all along."

"Why was it on Earth, then?" Steve asked with a frown.

"We thought it would be safe where we concealed it on your world," Thor admitted. "My father built the tomb in which it was hidden on Earth, a few centuries before my birth. It seems someone tried to steal it from our vault, and they came close to succeeding. Thus, he hid it away, yet maintained the rumours and boasts that it remained in our vault, so as to encourage thieves to break upon our defences, yet not risk them finding it if they were cunning enough."

Steve nodded slowly. It was a clever tactic... that completely overlooked the risk of  _ humans _ looking for it. Which, of course, they had, to terrible results. "When did you last visit Earth?" he asked.

"Well, before a year ago in New Mexico, you mean?" Thor asked, and Steve nodded. "Around seven centuries ago, I believe."

Steve chuckled ruefully. Perhaps he didn't have the worst of it, after all. "We've changed a bit, since then, haven't we?"

"Oh, certainly," Thor declared, enthusiastically. "I am most impressed by the technology of this world, today. There are things Tony Stark's computers can do that rival even Asgard's magic and technology. We have, for example, never created even the illusion of sentience through machines."

JARVIS. Steve had once met the real Jarvis, Howard's butler, who had apparently helped raise Tony. He had also heard what the acronym stood for, and just knew Tony had gone out of his way to name his creation in honour of the man.

"We didn't have a lot of this, even only seven decades ago," Steve admitted. It felt bizarre to refer to the passage of time that way, but if Thor could measure in terms of centuries, Steve guessed he had earned the right to do so in decades.

"It must be a jarring transition for you, then?" Thor asked. Steve nodded again. "When I first arrived on this world, last year, I was very disoriented. I attempted to purchase a horse from a pet store, because I was unaware that I could have acquired a motor vehicle."

Steve laughed, now. "I grew up in this city, but the first day I woke up in this century, I didn't even recognise it. All the flashing lights and modern cars; I was standing in the middle of the most iconic plaza in the city for almost five minutes, and still needed to be told as much before I'd believe it."

Thor nodded in understanding, smiling broadly. "There is a custom on Asgard, where it is considered a compliment to throw one's goblet on the floor and demand 'another!', if one enjoyed their drinks. I knew it became popular among those who mistook me for a god, on my previous visits. I was unaware that it was unacceptable in modern coffee shops."

"SHIELD tried not to explain changing standards of dress to me, thought I'd be shocked and confused by short skirts, or something, so they just had their agents dress like it was the forties when they visited me. It took me a week to realise it's not only allowed, but normal, to wear casual clothing in a work environment."

Thor nodded, grinning. "Your world's clothing standards are still a mystery to me, I'm afraid. I find myself unsure what I should wear when not in battle. What I believe you call 'downtime'. On Asgard, the fashions are quite different."

"Wait, wait, hold it!" Tony called across the table. "Are you telling me you  _ weren't _ shocked by the short skirts, Cap?"

"I've worked with the USO show, Tony," Steve retorted, perfectly straight-faced. Clint and Tony both laughed at this explanation.

"So have you figured out computers yet?" Tony asked, sounding almost gleeful.

"Yes."

"The Internet?"

"Yes."

"Facebook?"

"I don't think it's a good idea to put my real name on that thing," Steve replied bluntly.

"Wise man," Natasha said, nodding sagely.

"So you in for the whole Avengers Tower thing, Cap?" Tony asked, finally getting back to that topic.

"I appreciate the offer, but I'll need some time to think about it," Steve answered.

Tony nodded, looking a bit unhappy, as if he thought that was just a very polite 'no'... but he continued to talk, steering the conversation onto the topic of what was popular on television these days, which effectively cut Steve out.

Steve frowned, and looked to Thor, who appeared to be just as clueless. "So what was popular last time you visited Earth?" he asked, trying to parody Tony's behaviour.

Thor chuckled. "The Norse skalds of that time had some quite creative, if inaccurate, stories about Asgard."

Bruce and Clint both tuned in to Steve and Thor's conversation, rather than Tony's... and within five more minutes of Thor's storytelling, Tony gave up on his pettiness, and listened to Thor as well, with an amused smirk at Steve for figuring out how to beat him at his own game.

From there, the conversation diverged onto Steve and Bruce trying to explain Shakespeare to Thor, and then Tony and Clint trying to explain Game of Thrones to everyone.

All in all, Steve could honestly say he liked what little he knew about each one of the Avengers - and after Tony's attempted heroic sacrifice, he judged more heavily on their personal interactions than the files SHIELD had given him - and hoped they could remain friends and not merely co-workers, for the foreseeable future.

Because finally, he was beginning to see a future for himself, at all.

\---


	2. Chapter 2

\---

One of the files SHIELD gave Steve was a list of all his old friends, and what had happened to them.

Well, not all of them. They only had records of his activities after he signed up for Project Rebirth, after all. They didn't know about the people Steve had known before the war, and he felt somewhat bitterly that maybe they didn't really care, or worse assumed  _ he _ didn't care.

With some difficulty, and the use of an actual library because some records were  _ not _ in fact all on the Internet yet, he managed to track down these older friends, but none of them had survived to this century, nevermind this decade. He had always been the kind of kid who made friends with those older than him - he'd had to be more emotionally mature to endure his medical problems, and that also allowed him to empathise with the elderly and infirm in his neighbourhood. They'd had to stick together, back then... but that meant that now, he had outlived them all by a wide margin.

He learned the fates of the remaining Howling Commandos. All except for Bucky had survived the war, but only half of them had survived the normal life that followed. He wasn't even sure if he should reconnect with any of them; to him, it was two months since he crashed that plane, to them it was nearly seventy years. They had moved on and lived their lives. Peggy had a family - a husband and children. He didn't begrudge them any of that, and felt he would be intruding to seek them out.

He wrote each one of the former Howling Commandos a personalised letter, explaining why he hadn't contacted them immediately, apologising, since he knew they'd have seen the battle for New York on the news, and letting them know they could contact him any time they wanted. Since he had gotten his own phone - not SHIELD issue - and a personal email account, he gave his old friends those contact details in the letters.

Peggy, though... the files said she had a serious illness that affected her memory. He didn't want to mess with that, by showing up looking not a day older than last time they'd spoken. He kept telling himself he'd see her eventually, but he didn't really want to upset her.

The Howlies all responded, demanding he arrange a reunion of the old gang, and when he didn't answer within two hours of the first email, they had all collaborated to set up said reunion on their own.

In the end, their reunion was bittersweet. It  _ was _ good to see them again, but they all commented on how he hadn't aged a day, and it only served to highlight the way he looked at his friends and saw old men in their place. Even their personalities had mellowed, in some ways. It hurt, and he felt bad for that fact, because he was supposed to be the lucky one, not feeling sorry for himself about it.

He felt even worse for the fact he met up with Bruce and Tony the next weekend, and enjoyed their company more. There was no old pain there, and that was a relief. And that fact made him feel cruel, for thinking of it that way.

This time, when Tony offered him a whole floor of the infamous Stark Tower, he said he'd like to, but there were things he'd need to do first.

Tony Stark's favourite 'team-building exercise' for the Avengers was movie night. He would invite them over to the Tower, and pick something for them all to watch. It was almost like going to the pictures back in Steve's day: there was a huge screen - even if it was only for their small team - and popcorn and fancy chairs, and even a big red velvet curtain, just like the movie house that Steve and Bucky used to go to on the rare occasions they could afford it. The biggest difference was how much more real the pictures themselves looked.

Every time, Tony would attempt to pick a movie (or series of movies) that annoyed exactly one of them. Natasha Romanoff loathed the Bourne series. Bruce Banner nitpicked for an entire movie over the difference between Frankenstein and his monster. Steve was horrified by HBO's attempt to tell his own life story. And Clint Barton despised Lord of the Rings. The game, in Tony's mind, seemed to be to get them to vent about it, and bond over said reactions. If so, it worked, though he expressed annoyance at the fact that he failed his mission to  _ only _ annoy  _ one _ Avenger with each movie, when Steve informed them all that it was creepy how much one of the Elves in Lord of the Rings resembled Johann Schmidt.

"Oh, you're going to love Samuel L. Jackson," Natasha had replied, in a tone that told Steve quite clearly that he ought to fear her suggestion.

\---

Steve started volunteering, where he could. The cleanup effort in New York appreciated both his strength and the symbol he served as; the heroes didn't just fight the monsters and then leave, they stuck around and pitched in like everyone else. He couldn't have imagined doing less, and yet people were surprised. He even guilted Tony into helping out, though Tony's idea of helping was more along the lines of sending in a dozen of his suits, remote-controlled by JARVIS, and only appearing himself for the photo shoots. Steve told him this was selfish, and Tony retorted he had gotten a dozen times as much rubble shifted as Steve had that day.

It was true, but it also felt a little hollow... like the suits he'd sent to do the heavy lifting for him.

Next time, Steve suggested Tony visit a children's hospital in costume, instead. Tony actually seemed to love the sort of awestruck attention that brought him. The kids had their favourites, of course; there were chronically ill children who idolised Steve for having been in their place and rising above it, and there were the next generation of tech geniuses who would ask Tony all sorts of questions about prosthetic limbs and the like. There were a few kids who asked to see the Hulk, but the oddest one of the lot was the quiet little girl who asked  _ why _ Loki had been so angry, as if he couldn't have just been bad for badness' sake. Tony had been the one to talk to her, and whatever he said seemed to make her happy, but Steve hadn't heard exactly what that was.

This pattern of volunteering and helping out continued quietly for a while, and Steve eventually convinced Bruce to do one of the hospital visits, to the absolute glee of the boys who had asked after the Hulk. Even without the dangerous transformation, it seemed they just wanted to meet him and that was enough. Bruce had no clue how to react to this, but seemed flattered all the same.

Then, after a few months, SHIELD started giving him missions again. These were fairly basic, run-of-the-mill military exercises. He was teamed up with Clint, Natasha, and/or the STRIKE team that had helped secure the scene of the Incident after the Avengers had closed the portal. The STRIKE team were more reserved than either the Howlies of the Avengers, Steve would almost call them unfriendly... but in that awkward way where they were perfectly polite, and used that and protocol to keep everyone else at a distance. The only one of them who seemed amicable enough was Brock Rumlow, who at least had a sense of humour, even if he seemed to mortally offend Natasha simply by existing anywhere near her.

Steve could only tell that she felt that way, because she told him, after their first shared mission; she never explained  _ why _ she didn't like him, just that he made her uncomfortable in a way even her sleaziest marks never really had. After she said that, it became clear to Steve, in her exceedingly subtle body-language, whenever he saw the two of them in a room together. Brock's opinion on Natasha seemed to be quite positive, though he didn't seem to like Clint, calling him a showoff and muttering about outdated weapons and parkour.

Steve later used Google to figure out what 'parkour' was.

The thing about SHIELD was, everyone was a professional. They had their personal opinions, but didn't let those get in the way of the job. And that was good. They did work well together.

But then, something went wrong.

\---

It was a little under a year since the Incident, and it had been a relatively routine mission for SHIELD.

Tony Stark was in major surgery, having been presumed dead last month, Thor hadn't been seen on Earth since the Battle of New York, and Bruce Banner hated fighting so calling the Hulk was reserved for an apocalypse-level last resort. But even if they had all been available, Fury wouldn't have thought it necessary to call them in.

That had been their first mistake.

Just adding either Natasha or Clint to the SHIELD team could have tipped the scales; their enemies were only human, after all. Compared to Steve's first mission after waking up in this new century, this should have been easy.

Steve didn't know exactly what had gone wrong, it all happened too fast. He had just incapacitated one of the small groups of enemy fighters, when he heard an explosion nearby. He started running towards it, because there were still civilians in the area, and he wanted to make sure they weren't caught in the blast, or rescue any that were... and then something hit him from behind.

Now he was waking up, strapped to a table, in some kind of twisted hybrid between a mad scientist's laboratory and a jail cell. For all he knew, either everyone on the SHIELD team was dead or captured, or the rest of the mission could have been a complete success... or anything in between. He had been quite far away from the rest of the team, last he remembered.

He had been catching up on old movies and TV recently. He was ridiculously behind on modern culture - something Tony never let him forget, with his constant references - and it made good background noise during his workout sessions when he couldn't get to the gym. So, it was because of Star Trek that he chose to think of the man in the white coat who stood next to him now as 'evil parallel universe version of Doctor Erskine'. This man was younger, clean-shaven, notably thinner in the face, and wore a deep scowl where Steve's favourite German scientist had more often worn a warm smile. It certainly wasn't the same man, but there was a vague likeness, just enough for the bad - Tony Stark worthy - joke to stick in Steve's mind.

"Ah, you're awake." His accent wasn't German, though; it was something Steve couldn't place. "Good, there are tests that need to be run." He looked to be on the shorter side, but because Steve was strapped down to a table, this man loomed over him.

Steve tried to speak, but found he had been gagged. He tried to free his hands, but whatever bindings they had used were clearly designed with super-human prisoners in mind.

He looked around the room, trying to find a way to escape, but there was nothing within reach, and this scientist - at least, Steve assumed he was a scientist, at any rate - was now approaching him with a syringe.

Just as the needle pierced his skin, Steve managed to jerk his arm up off the table, not hard enough to free his wrist, but hard enough that the needle broke. The scientist sighed dramatically. "Very well, we will do this the hard way." He gestured behind Steve, and something jabbed him in the ribs. It felt like it was probably a cattle prod; electricity ripped through his body, but it didn't make him any less determined to resist.

It turned out there were perhaps half a dozen other men, just waiting outside his line of sight, for the opportunity to beat him into submission, in spite of the fact he was already so well restrained. Even his body had limits, and though he put up his best fight, he was easily knocked out again. When he came to, he immediately tried to fight, and the process was repeated, with cruel efficiency. Soon his whole world descended into a blur of pain, fading in and out of consciousness.

This was one of his worst nightmares.

Peggy and Howard had told him that his blood could be the key to recreating Erskine's serum, and as such it should be kept well out of enemy hands. Now, in spite of his best efforts, he was helpless to stop this scientist from doing just that. He had no idea what was done to him while he was unconscious, or how much time had passed, but the next time he was aware of anything other than pain and fighting, he saw that same scientist standing in the corner of the room, cursing quietly over what looked like a row of blood samples.

Steve knew a  _ lot _ of curse words, in several languages (just because he was polite enough not to use them, didn't mean he didn't know them), but he didn't recognise any of the ones this man was using. The inflection was clear enough, though.

Steve himself was still strapped securely down to the same table as before, the gag still in his mouth, now wearing nothing but his underwear. There was a needle in his right arm, which he looked up to see was connected to a bag of cloudy fluid. He couldn't identify what it was, but if he was thinking clearly then the situation could still have been worse.

"Report?" another man asked. It took all of Steve's self-control not to jump at the sound. He hadn't seen this other man - it shouldn't be too surprising, he couldn't see the door to this room, either - and neither of them seemed to have noticed he was awake. The newcomer approached the scientist. He wore an expensive-looking suit, and his accent was American. With his back to Steve, there was no way to identify him.

"I am beginning to see why no one has successfully recreated this serum," the scientist answered, sounding very annoyed by this. "The SSR had his blood for years, and all they produced was a cheap imitation. I now doubt they even  _ used _ the blood to make it. I have not been able to identify any abnormal factors in the subject to even begin reverse-engineering from. Every test I have run reads simply as an exceptionally fit and healthy human. Not that we have many non-human samples to work with, of course."

"We've tried getting Chitauri parts from Damage Control before. We won't be trying it again any time soon," the man in the suit retorted coldly. It was almost a chiding tone, as if he had been asked for such things before.

"I could use an Asgardian subject," the scientist suggested hopefully.

"I'm sure you could," the suit chucked. "Good luck containing one. Word has it, Loki was physically their weakest, and he hits at least twice as hard as your current subject."

The scientist snorted, sounding a bit sulky when he asked, "So what would you like me to do with him, now?"

"If you cannot recreate the serum, you may run as many other tests as you wish, just be sure to leave him in once piece. Then we will see about making him more...  _ compliant _ ."

The scientist chuckled. "One piece. I'm sure they complained about that, last time." Steve couldn't see the look on the face of the man in the suit, but he saw him turn his head to face the scientist more directly, and he was fairly sure from that movement, that the man was giving the scientist a disdainful glare or sneer. The scientist reacted almost as if afraid, nodding jerkily, and quickly turning back to his work. "Tests, yes. I have many tests to run," he agreed, sounding excited.

Steve wondered what he meant by 'last time'.

\---

More time passed - he lost track of how long - pain and unconsciousness warring for control. At first, every time he even began to struggle, he was beaten or electrocuted until he passed out. After a while, the scientist scolded them for 'damaging the merchandise', and instead they began to use a sedative of some kind, administered through a plastic mask held firmly over his face, giving him no choice but to breathe it in. Eventually, he learned that if he didn't fight, they didn't even bother with that much.

By allowing them to think he had stopped resisting, he then began to learn more, as well. That fluid they were pumping into his arm was a nutrient mixture designed to go straight into the bloodstream. They weren't trying to drug him - at least not through that - they just didn't want to go to the effort of force-feeding an uncooperative prisoner.

The scientist seemed most interested in understanding super-powers in general, without any care in the least about any of the pain they were putting him through. He didn't even seem to care how the knowledge he gathered was used, only that he learned it. It was common enough for a scientist to compromise their morals for their work, but this man seemed to just not have had any morals to begin with.

Steve wasn't sure if he should be resentful or grateful that most of what the scientist did was relatively painless, and the man was keen to keep him as a test subject for as long as possible. He didn't like his current situation, but he got the feeling that when the scientist was done with him, things were going to get a lot worse. The man in the suit had spoken of making him 'more compliant'. That suggested mind control or brainwashing of some kind. He had no intention of submitting to whatever it was, but he knew it was possible to control people against their will. After the whole situation with Loki, Clint had talked about how 'It wasn't like the brainwashing we'd trained to resist.' That meant that whatever these people might do to him  _ could _ be resisted... but Steve had no idea how.

He also became familiar with the leader of the group of masked soldiers, who seemed to be here mostly for security, even if none of them had shown any qualms over beating and electrocuting him. This individual was taller, and more muscular than the others, with a distinctive voice that Steve was sure he'd recognise if he ever met the man outside this prison... and he seemed to find a sense of humour in his work. Once Steve stopped fighting, the man even began trying to hold idle conversations with him, and introduced himself as Dave.

"I mean, sure, I work for an evil organisation bent on world domination, but a guy's gotta earn a pay cheque somehow, and most legitimate businesses don't take ex-cons," Dave told him almost earnestly. "It's a vicious cycle, really. Put me away for a minor offence, let me back out on the streets where only shady types will hire me, expect me to be reformed." He snorted. "Yeah, right. The hours are pretty decent - regular shifts, don't see that in a lot of security work these days, either - and you wouldn't believe the life insurance... y'know, given the circumstances."

Steve didn't answer. Even if he hadn't been gagged, he was not going to dignify those excuses with a response. He did keep listening, though. Chatty guards can drop valuable information, after all.

Then one day, Dave brought in a stack of strange weapons to 'test' on him.

"This stash only goes back to nineteen ninety-five," Dave said, seemingly addressing both the scientist  _ and _ Steve. "Any random unidentified we've found has been tested on ballistic dummies, but these are the ones that didn't leave a mark."

"Well it'll be your head, if they leave a mark on him," the scientist had bluntly retorted. "The boss wants him alive, when we're done with him."

Dave kept up a stream of inane chatter that managed to tell Steve nothing of value, yet would not cease, as he sorted through the stack of strange alien-looking weapons, and picked one out to test. The first one just caused pain without any other damage. Far more intense than any other physical pain Steve had ever felt... and until now, the transformation from the serum had held that honour.

Dave had cheerfully labelled it 'Cruciatus Gun', and moved on. Steve knew from his tone that that was a reference, but he didn't get it.

The second one had no discernible effect at all. It got labelled 'Cat Toy'. Honestly, if this guy hadn't been willingly working for an evil organisation, testing dangerous weapons on human subjects... Steve  _ might _ have appreciated his sense of humour.

The third one... at first, it felt like his flesh was melting, burning him from the inside out. It hurt most in the chest and abdomen, but echoed over every inch of his skin. The pain subsided very quickly, but left him feeling drained and exhausted.

"Oh, wow, that's impressive!" Dave said, sounding like he was grinning.

Steve heard two sets of footsteps approach slowly, and realised that in the pain he had closed his eyes... so he quickly opened them to glare at both men. "Is it permanent? Can it be reversed?" the scientist asked.

"How should I know?" Dave asked with a shrug. "It don't look like it's got more than one setting. Just the trigger, here." He held up the strange gun-shaped device for the scientist to see. "Not even a safety on it."

"Well then stop waving it at me," the scientist snapped, before producing a medical gas mask and placing it over Steve's face. He tasted the familiar sedative, and tried to fight again, but as usual it was futile. "I'll need to do a full body scan. This could be the key to the next generation of Super Soldiers."

Dave gave the scientist a sideways look that - in spite of the mask - seemed convey genuine disgust, but the scientist was too busy watching Steve to notice. Dave then shrugged and wandered off... the last thing Steve was aware of before succumbing to the sedative, was Dave's distant voice declaring this latest device was to be named the 'Gender Bender'.

\---


	3. Chapter 3

\---

Steve woke up slowly, groggily. Everything felt warm and comfortable, and it quickly became apparent that this was because he was lying on a soft bed, with a thick comforter over him and an equally fluffy pillow under his head.

Something was very wrong here, but he couldn't put his finger on it.

Last he remembered, he had been a prisoner of an unidentified mad scientist. The switch to a comfortable bed was not expected, but what felt wrong wasn't that. The bed was very soft, and the comforter was pulled right up over his head, so he didn't have to face the real world yet, if he didn't want to.

After who-knew-how-long of torture and being experimented on, he really didn't want to. It wasn't that he was unaccustomed to pain, though it had been a while since he'd really felt that bad before... and there was a difference between poor health wracking his body with aches, and someone deliberately inflicting pain. But he had endured pain before, and he knew how to get past it.

He was also alone in the bed. It was one of those things you usually only notice when you're  _ not _ alone, but the fact he heard movement - perhaps in the next room - made him consider it. He cautiously peered out over the covers, and saw what looked like a hotel room. He'd stayed in enough of them, working with SHIELD, to know this room was fairly standard, and not nearly as extravagant as he might have thought when he first woke up in this century.

There was no one else in this room... and the sound of movement did indeed come from the next room. It sounded like that was the bathroom, and someone was taking a shower.

It was as he sat up in the bed that he finally realised what was wrong here... and it was only the fear that whoever was in the next room might be a hostile that stopped him from actually screaming.

His body was...  _ very _ different. He first noticed the breasts, but that was quickly followed by the fact that the muscles in his arms - while still firm and toned - were much smaller. He didn't dare look any lower, just now.

But he could  _ feel _ that difference, as well, without the need to check.

And that was when he remembered the last moments before he had passed out.

An alien device summarily dubbed the 'Gender Bender'. The mad scientist calling him 'the key to the next generation of Super Soldiers'.

He shuddered with revulsion as those two thoughts came together in his mind to form only one possible conclusion. They couldn't steal the serum from his blood, so - with the stroke of luck that was that alien device - they had decided to attempt to  _ breed _ its effects.

He quickly leaped out of the bed, and scanned the room. There was a small pile of clothes on the chair right by the bed. He was surprised to find them a near-perfect fit for his altered body, but didn't think too much on it. He had woken up naked, and didn't really want to acknowledge the changes in  _ that _ much detail just yet.

He fumbled with the bra, and eventually gave it up as a bad idea, and instead decided that he would just zip up the leather jacket, conveniently provided with the rest of the clothes, to hide the fact that this body - which very much needed the bra - wasn't wearing one. All these clothes seemed brand new, as well.

He had just finished pulling on the very practical hiking boots - which, again, perfect fit - when the door to the other room opened. The man standing in the doorway - who had presumably just been in the shower, because his hair was wet - was mostly dressed, and stopped half-way through buttoning up his shirt, when he saw Steve was awake.

They both just stared at each other.

Steve was in a state of absolute shock, and could do nothing but stare for all of maybe fifteen seconds. Then he pinched himself, to be sure he wasn't dreaming.

Nope. This was still happening.

"Bucky?"

The man blinked, frowning in confusion, then asked, "What's Bucky?"

Steve felt deflated and confused at this question. This wasn't like Steve's subconscious making a bad joke about the mad scientist who had held him prisoner. That man hadn't really looked all that much like Erskine, and he'd only seen that Star Trek episode a couple of days before he'd been captured so it had been fresh in his mind.

This man looked  _ exactly _ like Bucky, except with longer hair and... something was wrong with his left hand - it looked like it was made of metal. But Bucky had died nearly seventy years ago, and if this man didn't even know who he was...

"You look just like him," Steve conceded, frowning.

The man who looked like Bucky shrugged his right shoulder slightly, and took the few steps over to a table, on which sat a duffle bag, where he set about sorting through its contents.

When Steve realised this man was neither going to attack, nor speak, he asked cautiously. "How did I get here?"

"I brought you," he answered simply.

"Why?"

He frowned, and looked at Steve critically. His eyes lingered a moment longer on Steve's chest, reminding him that he had not yet put that jacket on. He tried to ignore this. It made him very uncomfortable, but it only lasted a moment. "I didn't think I should leave you there."

"I don't understand. What happened?" Oh, he understood what that scientist had planned to happen, but he had no idea how this man had managed to get him out of there.

But he didn't answer. Instead, he zipped up the duffle bag and dropped it on the bed next to where Steve sat. "You need to disappear. I've packed everything you'll need."

"I- what?"

"They'll find me. They always find me. You've got a better chance on your own."

Steve shook his head. "No, tell me what happened first," he demanded, standing up to his full height, to back up his words. It seemed he was shorter, now, as well. After the serum, Steve had been two inches taller than Bucky, and now he was maybe two inches shorter instead. Still a lot taller than before the serum, though.

The man scowled at him, and for a second it was exactly like the look Bucky used to give when Steve was being particularly stubborn and awkward. It was heartbreaking to see that reflected on... what? What were the odds of two people looking identical, decades apart?

Okay, so theoretically it  _ could _ happen: he had seen that there was an actor called Hugo Weaving who looked almost exactly like the Red Skull (before his transformation)... and the other Avengers assured him that another actor called Samuel L. Jackson was a perfect likeness of Director Fury.

But the allies hadn't found Bucky's body. It wasn't impossible that someone else  _ had _ found him. Even if Bucky had died, like everyone thought... well maybe someone had been able to create a clone of him, somehow.

No, in spite of the evidence and reason to the contrary, Steve was having a lot of trouble  _ not _ thinking that this man was Bucky.

But then suddenly the man sighed. Another painfully familiar gesture; exasperation and defeat in the face of Steve's persistence. "I am property of HYDRA. They gave me contradictory orders, which allowed me to kill your captors. That left me without orders, so I put you in a body-bag, and walked out. I imagined that wouldn't seem unreasonable, and the guards didn't try to stop me." His lip twitched slightly, as if trying but failing to smile. "I imagine their opinions changed once they discovered the agents I killed, inside."

Steve blinked in shock. "There is so much wrong with that explanation," he said bluntly. "First:  _ HYDRA? _ " Not-Bucky nodded once. "You're  _ property _ of HYDRA?" He nodded again. "Explain that for me."

He rolled his eyes, clearly exasperated by this line of questioning. "I have no memories earlier than twelve hours ago, but I know facts. I am property of HYDRA. I can't disobey their commands. There is nowhere I can hide from them."

That was horrifying, and it spoke of the sort of brainwashing Steve had feared his captors had planned to use on him. He thought of the metal hand, and wondered if this man was the 'last time' the scientist had been referring to.

"But when left without orders, you chose to free me from- are you saying I was being held by  _ HYDRA? _ "

"Yes."

"But they were destroyed," Steve protested. "In nineteen-forty-five!"

"Cut off one head..." not-Bucky said simply... like it was another 'fact' they'd put in his head. Steve cursed under his breath, shaking his head and turning away. "I'm pretty sure I shouldn't be telling you this, but they haven't ordered me not to, so... they currently have agents embedded in almost all significant world powers. SHIELD is their favourite."

Steve looked back to stare at him in wide-eyed horror. "No."

"Yes."

Steve ran his hands through his hair - which was still short, and he really wasn't sure how he felt about that, given the rest of the recent changes to his body - and all but growled in frustration. Then after another long moment, turned back to not-Bucky again. Back to the point. "What 'contradictory orders' did they give you?"

He frowned, but didn't look away as he explained. "Standing orders: if any HYDRA agent gives me an explicitly sexual command, I am to disregard it, and instead kill that agent. I'm a weapon, not a toy." He paused for a long moment, which left Steve just enough time to realise that someone had to have tried to take advantage of him sexually, before this current situation, to cause such an order to be given in the first place... but before he could even think whether or not he should ask, not-Bucky kept talking. "I was ordered to rape you."

That sickening thought had already crossed Steve's mind, when he woke up looking like a woman, naked in a nice bed, after passing out in what he now knew to be a  _ HYDRA _ base. So it wasn't exactly a shock... but it was still just as unpleasant the second time he thought about it.

And by any of the twisted logic HYDRA tended to follow, that likely meant that this man was somehow enhanced; perhaps with their own attempt to copy the super soldier serum. Why else would such sadists decline the opportunity to do it themselves? He had said they saw him as a weapon.

"You said... they always find you," Steve said with a frown. "How do you know that, if you don't remember anything before twelve hours ago?"

"I- I just do. It's another fact," he answered.

Steve shook his head. "I have friends - allies - who can help you. Either they've just made you think they can always find you, so you don't try to run, in which case we can provide you with somewhere safe... or they've put a tracking device on you, in which case we can find and remove it."

"You trust these... friends?"

Steve frowned for a moment. Natasha and Clint were both SHIELD, and if SHIELD was compromised... well, who did he trust more? A man who happened to look like his best friend, or those who had recently helped him save the world? He supposed, right now, the answer was neither. He had no idea who this man really was... and even villains who want to take over the world would probably have wanted to prevent anyone else's attempt to do so. He would have to be cautious with those two... and the STRIKE team, for that matter.

Thor had all the subterfuge of the weather he occasionally controlled. Steve would trust Thor's word with his life, but he couldn't be confident that Thor could keep a secret like this from something like HYDRA. His face was an open book, and he would likely be too trusting of their supposed allies... and any SHIELD agent could be a mole. Not to mention, Thor hadn't been seen on Earth in months, as far as Steve knew.

But he definitely trusted Tony and Bruce not to be involved with something like HYDRA. Tony didn't play well with others, and had made quite the dramatic statement about his former business partner's collaboration with terrorists. Bruce was a victim of government conspiracy. Both of them deeply distrusted SHIELD based on these experiences, and Tony had even dug up dirt on SHIELD the very day he met Steve.

Dirt which Steve realised in retrospect, with growing horror,  _ literally _ bore the HYDRA logo. He had thought at the time that they were relics from the war, but now he wasn't so sure.

"Yes," he answered, finally.

The man frowned, then shrugged his right shoulder slightly. "I must return to HYDRA. They will find me, if I don't. Those are 'facts' I 'know'." Steve could hear in his tone that he didn't actually want to believe that. "But I don't  _ want _ to go back. If you want to try to help me, I'm not going to stop you. You know what will happen to you if HYDRA catches you."

Steve nodded slowly, trying very hard to ignore that almost-threat. He knew it was meant as a warning, to try to discourage him from taking the risk of helping someone who likely believed himself beyond help.

The contrary part of Steve's nature took that as a challenge.

"Alright. Step one: we need a phone."

\---


	4. Chapter 4

\---

It felt kind of anticlimactic, the way Tony agreed to help.

Not-Bucky had a 'pre-paid' (apparently that meant 'difficult to trace') phone, already in the bag he'd packed for Steve. This turned out to be one of those times when Steve's failure to adapt to the modern world worked out to his advantage. He had yet to master 'smart phones', including how to make the things remember people's numbers - it was on his to-do list, but there had always been a lot of more important things ahead of it on said list - so he'd had to memorise his new friends' personal phone numbers for himself.

He sent a text message to Tony:

_ 'Hey, big man in a suit of armour. I need your help. I'll be at the shawarma place at 3pm. Bring a scanner or something to prove my identity, and something to check for and dispose of tracking devices.' _

Steve had no doubt in the inherent Stark ability to be ahead of the curve when it came to anything to do with technology. He had known Howard well enough, and Tony's armour was proof that it was a hereditary trait. He was confident Tony could not only deliver on this request, but also do it subtly, and whatever tech he brought would get the job done  _ right _ , as well.

_ 'Wow, you even txt like an old man. I'll be there.' _

It was 11am now, and it turned out this hotel was actually in Manhattan, so they had time before the meeting. Not-Bucky was confident they could stay in the hotel room until they needed to leave to meet Tony, without risk of HYDRA catching up to them, so that was what they would do.

Steve sorted through the bag that not-Bucky had packed for him. It contained two changes of clothes in very different styles, a wallet full of cash, a thermos that turned out to contain still-hot coffee, a few bottles of water, a plastic box containing several sandwiches, the tiny bottles of bathing products from this hotel, a hairbrush, a black wig, and a box of feminine hygiene products.

The basics that most operatives would think to pack when going on the run would have been one set of clothes, the money, and weapons. Maybe also a fake ID or ten, depending on the situation. Anything else could be acquired with said money, on an as-needed basis. No, this wasn't a bag for an agent going to ground: what had been packed here seemed more suited to a civilian.

"Okay..." Steve muttered, pulling out the wig and very pointedly trying not to think about the feminine products.

"You're distinctive," not-Bucky replied, as if that was obvious.

Steve scowled at him. Yes, he had always stood out one way or another. First too small, and somehow that was a beacon for bullies. Then so big and strong he couldn't be ignored. Now... this.

Steve sighed as he realised what he was going to have to do next. He had been imprisoned for some time, and honestly, he needed a shower. In hindsight, it might have been a bad idea to get dressed immediately, but he had been thinking of leaving before he was discovered, at that point. He hadn't expected to find a friendly face, and that changed the plan a lot.

He sorted through the clothes in the bag, picking out a pair of jeans, t-shirt and underwear for after the shower, as well as the little bottles that not-Bucky had stolen from the hotel to pack in this bag. He frowned at not-Bucky, now. "You'll stay here, right?"

He nodded. "If you want. I still think this is a bad idea, but it's a worse idea for you than me."

Steve flinched slightly. "Stop reminding me about that. I'm going to shower, please wait for me."

Not-Bucky nodded again, and sat on the bed to wait.

Steve reluctantly entered the bathroom - it was just as he'd grown to expect from a twenty-first century hotel, and that at least was reassuring - and set the change of clothes on the shelf next to the towels.

He wasn't looking forward to this part, but this wasn't exactly his first dramatic full-body transformation. Sure, in real time he had been given the serum almost seventy years ago, but from his perspective it had only been about three years. There were still days he surprised himself with his own strength or height. The small illogical voice in his mind saying to hide from this new change - to be ashamed or embarrassed by it - was easy enough to overpower by reminding himself: he'd done something similar enough before.

He undressed quickly, and adamantly ignored the instinct to hesitate as he looked in the mirror.

His face had softened noticeably, especially around the jawline, but it was still  _ his _ face. Just like the serum had made his cheeks fuller and neck muscles thicker, but he could still recognise himself in the mirror. Nothing about his eyes had changed at all; that was the same as last time, too. His hair seemed only to have grown out a little bit, most likely due to the time he had been in captivity. He still wasn't used to thinking of women as being allowed short hair like this, even though he knew that in this century it was supposed to be okay, so that detail clashed with the concept of a 'sex change' transformation. He really was still himself, just... with a few obvious differences.

He remembered the scientist saying something about a 'full body scan', implying that if their super soldier had been brought to him and given those terrible orders, then presumably the changes were quite complete, in spite of his minor hang-up about short hair on a woman.

The mirror hung over the sink, and so it wasn't big enough to see his whole body, but he could see his neck was thinner again - though not nearly as skinny as it had been pre-serum - and his shoulders sloped downwards... but the muscles there were still well-defined, just less bulky.

And the breasts... well, he could kind of see how they could be described as 'impressive'. They weren't ridiculously big, but they weren't small either, and the way they sat on his chest... it had been said of the serum that it had turned him into the perfect physical specimen, and this seemed to carry over into his new female form. He wasn't the sort to judge on looks, but by almost any standard he'd heard of (and men in the army had plenty of opinions on the subject) these were  _ perfect _ breasts, worthy of the best pin-up models.

If they weren't on his own body, he was sure he'd feel better about that... but they got in the way, every time he moved his arms forward, and he was sure they would be an inconvenience both in that physical sense and in the way men were likely to look at him, now.

And now, he noticed something else; they were affecting his balance. He had been subconsciously drawing his shoulders back more than usual, to compensate. He was a soldier, good posture was part of that, but it was different now. Now, standing up straight like this drew attention directly to these breasts, and he kind of understood why not-Bucky had stared for a moment when he first saw...

And was he supposed to start thinking of himself as 'her' now? That would be too weird.

Did not-Bucky know who he was, or that he had been changed like this? Or did he just assume 'she' was some random prisoner? And for that matter, he needed a name for the man who looked exactly like his best friend, because he was pretty sure it would be rude to call him 'Not-Bucky' out loud.

Steve shook his head, and decided these were things that could be figured out later.

There was a metal towel rail by the shower, and he subtly tested his strength on it. He knew an average human couldn't squeeze a dent into it with their bare hands, because one time, on a mission, he had shared a hotel room with Clint... and had been told quite emphatically that it was apparently 'downright scary' that Steve could do that  _ by accident _ .

It seemed he was still unnaturally strong, even now, because the metal gave way almost as easily as before. Almost. That was interesting.

Steve had learned, very soon after waking up in the twenty-first century, that women were supposed to be considered equal to men - some people didn't, but they were supposed to. On many levels, Steve had agreed with that sentiment, even in his time where very few men would have, but physically they were different. What had been considered a factual, if condescending, statement in the nineteen-forties; calling women 'the weaker sex', was now downright offensive. 'Fairer' was generally tolerated, depending on the way you said it, but 'weaker' was now an insult.

But now Steve had been transformed into a woman, and he  _ was _ physically weaker. It wasn't by much, he was still a super soldier, but it was noticeable. That, and the change in centre of balance from the breasts, were things he would have to take into account if he got into a fight. He really wanted to find a gym, and test this new body's martial capabilities more fully, but that could wait until after they met up with Tony.

For now, he had one more aspect of this change to confront.

He really needed to pee.

\---

He tried not to think too much about the changes to his body. He had acknowledged them, but he didn't need to think about them in too much detail. It wasn't the end of the world, it was just unfamiliar and uncomfortable.

As he followed the mechanical process of showering, he focused his mind on trying to think through the situation as a whole, instead of exactly what he was doing.

He had so many unanswered questions. Could this latest transformation to his body be undone? Would they need to steal the device that had caused it from HYDRA, to do that? What else had HYDRA done to him, while he'd been unconscious? How long had he been their prisoner? Why hadn't the other Avengers found him and broken him out of there? Who could he trust at SHIELD?

Was it even really HYDRA, or was this man who looked exactly like his best friend some kind of mole, cast in the role of 'rescuer', to mislead him for some other nefarious reason?

That last one seemed unlikely, and he hated the fact that he couldn't entirely rule it out... but it was either that, or an unnerving combination of luck and the compassion of a man who claimed to be  _ owned _ by HYDRA that had saved him from a fate he really was not prepared to think about. If it was a trick, the story was well-designed to play on base fears, as well as his need to save people. Especially Bucky.

And if it was true - and he really wanted it to be true - then it was that kindness, from someone who had been conditioned to have no excuse for it, that led to him wanting to help, even if this man really wasn't Bucky.

Of course, there was still an incredibly slim chance that he could be; Steve had made it to the twenty-first century, so it wasn't  _ impossible _ ... and he was ashamed to realise that he wasn't sure if he should be rooting for that or not. For now he would assume the story was true, and in that case, that man who looked like Bucky had been brainwashed and used by HYDRA. It was bad enough knowing that had happened to anyone, but if it had happened  _ to Bucky _ ... that shouldn't make it worse, no one deserved to go through that, but somehow it did.

\---

By the time he was done mentally rehearsing what he was going to tell Tony, he was also done showering. He dressed in the clean clothes, hesitating before putting the t-shirt on. He really should figure out the bra, but it was in the other room, now. Pulling the t-shirt on and glancing in the mirror didn't really leave much to the imagination... but he'd just have to live with it.

When he returned to the bedroom, it wasn't any easier to deal with the face of his best friend on someone who acted like a complete stranger, but at least he hadn't taken the opportunity to leave.

The man with Bucky's face gave Steve a sceptical look, before picking up the bra from the bed. "You need this," he said simply, and threw it across the small open space of the room to Steve, who caught it easily. "The idea of being on the run is  _ not _ to draw attention."

Steve rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I tried earlier," he admitted, pulling a disgruntled face.

Not-Bucky looked confused at that, but seemed to dismiss it quickly. "Then let me?"

Steve hesitated for a second. There was not even a hint of the usual sly tone Bucky would use when he was trying to seduce a woman. No, he was being perfectly serious. And he  _ had _ seen this body naked already, so what was the harm? Steve shrugged, threw the offending garment back to him, and moved to sit on the bed next to him, pulling the t-shirt off as he did so.

Steve's first attempt had been awkward enough, but now that he had help he was beginning to realise, the whole process of wearing a bra probably  _ was _ meant to be uncomfortable. He couldn't decide if he was surprised that a HYDRA assassin knew how to work the horrible contraption, or completely unsurprised that someone who looked like Bucky knew what he was doing here. Bucky certainly had plenty of experience with the ladies, before the war. It was uncomfortable, and a bit humiliating to have asked for help, but it was dealt with quickly, at least... and even better, no comment was made about it once it was done.

Finally 'properly' dressed, Steve checked the time on his new phone... and noticed the date, as he did so. It was almost a month since he'd been captured... and they still had plenty of time before their meeting with Tony.

Steve tried the wig on, and it did make quite a striking difference. Jet black hair, shoulder-length with a neat fringe. It looked nice and proper, from what very little Steve knew of twenty-first century women's fashion, and drew attention to the feminine jawline. It made a good disguise.

He then watched as not-Bucky tucked his hair up into a baseball cap. It didn't hide the fact he was a brunet, but it hid the length of his hair, which was likely a defining feature of the HYDRA slave he claimed to be... and the stubble on his jaw made him look very little like the clean-cut Sergeant Barnes from the newsreels, either. He also put a white glove over his left hand, and when he put his arm in a sling the hard metal under the white fabric gave a fair illusion of a plaster cast.

It was a good disguise, but it also drew Steve's attention to it now. "What's up with your hand?"

He gave Steve the same flat, deadpan look Bucky had often given when Steve just would not let something drop. "You ask a lot of questions," he said bluntly. Steve just stared back at him, until he caved in and answered... exactly as Bucky would have done under that stare. "My entire left arm is artificial. I don't know why, but I do know a lot of the specs for it."

Steve frowned slightly. He didn't know how advanced technology was these days; he'd seen what Tony could do, but was under the impression a lot of that was way beyond most other people. "Seems pretty realistic, to me. Except, well... metal."

He had tried  _ not _ to notice not-Bucky's hands on him, when he'd been helping with the bra, but that metal hand was  _ cold, _ and at the very least, the fact it had the dexterity required to fasten that evil thing, alone, would make this artificial arm impressive.

Not-Bucky just shrugged his right shoulder again, trying to dismiss the subject. Steve reluctantly let him.

Not expecting to eat much at the shawarma place, and having the metabolism to handle two lunches if he did, Steve decided that the best change of subject might be to suggest they get out of the hotel, and go find somewhere to eat, now. "You hungry? There's this little diner I've been meaning to try, on the way to the meeting - well, it's a bit of a detour, but that's good when we're trying to avoid being followed - and we should really stay on the move, right?"

Not-Bucky nodded, and without further discussion, they collected everything from the hotel room - two of those duffle-bags, one for each of them - and Steve led the way through the city.

Eventually, they came to a small diner he'd walked past a few times, during the months between being defrosted, and the Battle of New York. He'd always meant to go there, but always been too busy to find the time. It was bright, cheery, and apparently it was 'fifties' themed, the staff just friendly enough without being overly-familiar. Just what you needed when you were trying to avoid attention. They deliberately wasted the next hour or so there, eating waffles - not-Bucky stayed quiet while Steve made small-talk with their waitress - before making their way to the shawarma place.

\---


	5. Chapter 5

\---

_ 'Captain America Dead, Again?' _

That was the headline.

Tony didn't hold much stock in headlines proclaiming Avengers dead, these days. Not after he'd been featured in one, so very recently, himself.

It'd been a month or so since he'd ditched the arc-reactor-in-the-chest approach to heart health, and he was noticing all those little details like how much easier it was to breathe when there was actually room in his chest for his lungs to properly expand again. He'd been working on some holograms of ideas for designs, without actually physically building them yet. There was no current major crisis he could participate in thwarting, and he was still technically in recovery from major surgery - even though he felt fine, now - so there was no sense of urgency, and every reason to take it easy.

SHIELD claimed they were still looking for their wayward Capsicle, but Tony had done a search of his own, to be sure. It was a bit frustrating to keep coming up empty-handed in this endeavour, but at least he wasn't being shown up by SHIELD yet.

That would have been embarrassing.

And then, out of the blue, his private cellphone - the one he only gave out the number of to actual close friends, or people he wanted to be actual close friends with, like the Avengers - gave a little chirrup to say it had a text.

"JARVIS, who dares?" Tony asked with all faux haughtiness, even though there was no one else here to witness it.

"Unknown number, sir. Shall I read the message?"

"So long as it's not trying to sell me something - especially not sunglasses, you know how I feel about other people's sunglasses, J - yes, okay, go ahead... read the message, please," Tony conceded.

JARVIS dutifully read the message aloud, and Tony snorted with suppressed laughter when he heard it. "So much for the search. Okay, text back as follows: Wow, you even text like an old man. I'll be there."

"Message sent, sir."

Tony nodded firmly. "I didn't really like shawarma, if I'm honest." he muttered to himself. It wasn't bad, it just wasn't his favourite. He'd eat it again and not complain, and he knew why that location of all places, but still.

"Okay, JARVIS. We've got a portable biometric scanner, right? And tracking stuff, I know I've got anti-tracking stuff. Uh... where did I put it?"

"Biometrics are in lab six. Tracer-checkers and disablers are in lab eight," JARVIS answered promptly.

"What are the odds I should bring the suit?"

"Given the circumstances, I would estimate 'high', sir."

\---

Tony packed for the worst case scenario. The latest suit was deployed on the roof of the shawarma place, ready to swoop in at a moment's notice. The other tech he brought all fit neatly in a briefcase, and he was pleased with that fact.

He tactfully searched the room as he entered, spotting only two other customers. A couple sitting in one corner; a scruffy-looking man with a broken arm, and a woman who looked  _ way _ out of his league. The man watched Tony arrive, openly, but the woman was playing with her cellphone and didn't seem to see him. They both had big bags at their feet, under the table, like they were backpacking students or something, and only had cans of soda in front of them. Probably only even in here for the free wifi.

Tony waved politely to the man behind the counter, who easily recognised him and started fussing about how happy he was for his business, and alien-invasion-thwarting. "Three of whatever we had last time," Tony requested simply. He knew Cap ate like a horse.

Then he sat down at a still shiny and new table by the window, in the opposite corner from the couple, and waited.

It wasn't like Rogers to be late.

But then, that couple stood up and approached, the woman seemingly taking the lead.

"No autographs, sorry," Tony dismissed.

"I asked you to bring a scanner for a reason," she said curtly.

Tony's eyes widened. Had he misjudged the source of that text  _ that _ badly? It wasn't Romanoff, her bone-structure was way off, and even the infamous Black Widow couldn't pull that off. Whoever she was, though, she was hot. Fit, in a Xena-warrior-princess sort of way, with black hair and gorgeous tits. She didn't even appear to be wearing makeup, but she was still beautiful anyway; she had the sort of perfect skin that most women would actually literally kill for. The man with her was built, too, but he had that sort of air about him that faded into the background, while she stood out and drew all of Tony's attention.

She calmly sat down at Tony's table, and with just way too familiar a tone, she said, "I'm serious, Tony. Scan me."

Tony rolled his eyes. "Congratulations, lady. As far as pick up lines go, this is a new one for me."

It took Tony about three seconds to cave in to that petulant stare... and okay, she looked a bit like Cap when she did that. It was the eyes, piercing blue and determined as all hell; Tony couldn't quite hold that stare, even though he tried. He pulled out the scanner, and gestured for her to give him her hand. She complied, and the scanner read her fingerprints. The little screen, which was facing so only Tony could see it, lit up:

_ 'Identity confirmed: Steven Grant Rogers, aka Captain America.' _

Well damn.

"No way," Tony said, stunned. He held the scanner up to her face, and pressed the button for a retinal scan.

_ 'Identity confirmed: Steven Grant Rogers, aka Captain America.' _

"You have got to be kidding me," Tony said weakly, before shaking his head and staring right at her. Yeah, he guessed he could see the resemblance, though the black hair (a wig, maybe?) had thrown him way off. As had the tits. God, those were nice tits, and it was so very not fair that they belonged to Captain freakin' America.

"Now the other scanner," she jerked her head towards the man with her.

Tony shrugged, trying valiantly to brush off the minor panic attack at the fact that  **_CAPTAIN AMERICA WAS A CHICK, NOW!_ ** He knew he'd leaped head-first down the metaphorical rabbit hole, long before Loki even showed up, nevermind whatever crazy this was all about, now. Whoever this man was, it was probably important, so sure, why not.

He waved the scanner over the man, and it beeped madly just above his left elbow.

"Found it," he said simply.

The man frowned at Rogers, and then at Tony, then back to Rogers again. "I... technically, I  _ can _ remove the arm, but I know I shouldn't."

Rogers gave him a very serious look. "It looks like you're going to have to. Don't worry, I'm sure Tony can replace it."

"Remove the arm?" Tony asked, curious.

"It's artificial. The cast is a disguise," the man answered bluntly. "Replace it?"

"Yes, if it is artificial, I'm sure I could," Tony answered honestly. Then he looked to Rogers. "If this is as covert as you made it out to be, maybe we should get the food to go, and do this somewhere... private?"

Rogers nodded firmly, and Tony called over to the counter, "Can we get that in a bag, please?"

\---

Steve held their dinner in a brown paper bag, both duffle bags over one shoulder, while watching Tony and maybe-Bucky (when had it become 'maybe' instead of 'not'?) in the alley out the back of the restaurant. Tony made short work of following maybe-Bucky's rudimentary instructions, to remove the metal arm. For the first time, Steve could see that it went all the way up to his shoulder - it had been hidden under his shirt before - and it seemed like there was more metal in his body even after the bulk of the arm was detached at the shoulder-joint.

Tony did another scan, to be sure he hadn't missed anything, but the only tracker was in the now-separate arm. Tony did some visible counting in his head, and glanced to maybe-Bucky. "Whoever's tracking you... how long do you figure it'd take for them to catch up?"

"Probably two days. Thirty-six hours, if they're motivated."

"That's your minimum estimate, from now not from whenever they first started tracking you?" Tony checked. Maybe-Bucky nodded.

Tony chucked the metal arm in the dumpster. "Trash pickup's tomorrow morning," he said, with a bright grin. "These bins go all the way to another state, for reasons I have yet to comprehend."

"How do you know that?" Steve asked sceptically.

"Is that really the question you want to ask, right now?" Tony retorted, in a tone that suggested - whether truthfully or not - that his knowledge somehow came from a very inappropriate tale of drunkenness and debauchery.

"Probably not," Steve admitted.

"So now, I assume you're hiding from someone?" Tony asked, mostly aimed at maybe-Bucky.

"Yes," was the simple and blunt answer.

"It's not a pleasant story," Steve added.

Tony just shrugged. "My Tower's more secure than the Pentagon. I know this, because I hacked the Pentagon's computers on a dare, when I was sixteen."

Steve snorted with suppressed laughter. "I was hoping you'd say something like that."

\---

"And here we have your very own floor of the Tower," Tony declared, gesturing grandly first to Steve and then the room around him, as they exited the elevator into an open plan living area and kitchen, which looked like the height of luxury. "You've got private rooms over there; bedroom, sitting room, bathroom. Same on the other side, in case you ever had guests - glad I thought of that, now, huh?" Tony grinned brightly. "Three floors down is the gym, custom designed for the likes of you and Thor, so you won't break as many punching bags as you used to - Fury really knows how to whine about trivial things, y'know."

Steve tried not to laugh at that, and only just failed, letting out a faint chuckle. Then he noticed Tony's eyes wandering, and rolled his own eyes, before taking off the wig and throwing it at Tony's face. Tony held up his hands defensively, and appeared to at least make an effort to behave.

"If you need anything, just ask JARVIS. You know the drill," he said to Steve again, who nodded to show he understood. Then Tony turned to maybe-Bucky. "So what's your name?" he asked, the question Steve really should have asked much sooner.

"I don't know," maybe-Bucky answered, frowning as he tried to think. He looked to Steve who realised he was asking if it was wise to explain the truth to Tony.

"Like I said, it's complicated," Steve explained. "Apparently, I was taken prisoner by HYDRA."

"Thought you wiped HYDRA off the map like, a dozen wars ago?" Tony asked irreverently.

Steve rolled his eyes. "So did I. But my friend here says he's - and I'm quoting him on this - 'property of HYDRA'." He quickly stepped between the two, and held his hands up to stop Tony reacting, because he looked like he was going to either hit someone or just jump right out of his skin at that suggestion. "But he rescued me from them. He says he doesn't want to go back, but he was afraid they'd find him anyway. That's why I wanted you to check for, and dispose of, any tracking devices on him."

Tony groaned and ran his fingers through his hair, looking wide-eyed and a bit stressed. "This is messed up. You brought an enemy agent into my home?"

"He doesn't want to be an enemy agent!" Steve argued. "He got me out of there, and I'm going to repay the favour by making sure they never get him back again."

"Look, I'm having enough trouble getting over the fact  _ you _ are suddenly a woman, but now you're telling me we're playing 'rehabilitate the brainwashed minion, round two'?"

"'Round two'?" maybe-Bucky asked dubiously, blatantly _not_ disputing the assertion he himself had likely been brainwashed.

Steve closed his eyes for a second, exasperated. "Yeah, Tony. Just calm down before I tell Barton you said that." Clint would have punched Tony in the face for that remark, but Tony probably knew better than to have said it in Clint's presence, for that very reason. "And we both know you played no part in helping him recover from his ordeal. That was all Nat."

"The very concept of brainwashing is just..." Tony grumbled. "Just, I don't know, but I don't like it. So hey, you've joined the held-prisoner-and-tortured club. We have cheeseburgers."

Steve met his gaze, seeing the hint of joking there, but he was still angry at the turn of phrase. "And you're maybe ten second away from rubbing it in somehow that you were held by terrorists for three months, and I'm lucky to have escaped in one."

Tony hesitated, finally noticing that Steve was really upset. "And rescued, to boot," he said, but his tone was more amicable now. "Pretty sure sex change beats heart surgery, though. For the potential drama, if nothing else."

"And I thought I was messed up," maybe-Bucky muttered, sensing the change in tone as well.

\---


	6. Chapter 6

\---

"You know he's almost certainly not who he looks like, right?" Tony declared, as soon as he got Steve alone. He had simply dragged Steve back into the elevator, which was now moving upwards once again. Tony wasn't that strong; Steve could easily have resisted if he'd wanted, but he trusted Tony enough not to.

At those words, Steve did a double take, wondering how Tony knew who their new friend was supposed to be... before realising that of course the son of Howard Stark would know about the Howling Commandos. Not to mention, almost all of those old newsreels had shown Bucky right next to Steve. It would have been hard for someone who paid attention to miss, and in spite of the airs Tony liked to project, Steve has seen that he tended to pay more attention to what was happening around him than most people.

"Yeah, I know," Steve admitted reluctantly. "The odds must be a million to one."

"Lower than that," Tony said, almost dismissive, if it weren't for what followed. "But not zero, because if it was impossible for someone from the forties to look in their thirties today, we'd not be talking right now."

"If we're going by time _not_ spent on ice, I'm twenty-eight," Steve muttered, but he understood what Tony was really saying, all the same.

Tony had developed a seemingly deliberate and calculated habit, since their little spat on the Helicarrier, of throwing off Steve's assumptions at every possible turn, and he had to admit - based on his first assumptions of Tony - that was a good thing.

The elevator opened onto the familiar - if thankfully rebuilt - space of Tony's penthouse, and Tony sauntered out, as Steve followed behind him.

"The more important question," Steve said, "Isn't if he's who he looks like... it's whether or not he's telling the truth. It is possible that someone is trying to use him to get to me. He did say SHIELD is compromised - if that's not true, then this would be a great way of making it true."

Tony hummed thoughtfully for a few seconds. "Yeah, but no. If they wanted to use your emotional connection to that face, they'd not have aged it up nearly ten years... or cut off his arm but not his hair, for that matter. Scars and torture marks might buy some empathy, but the ageing thing doesn't add up. Either tactically, or chronologically."

Steve hadn't even registered the fact that the man with Bucky's face looked older, but now that he thought about it, it was certainly true. Tony's estimate of around ten years seemed about right, though it could have been less if he was under a great deal of stress during that time... which seemed likely.

Tony was right, though. Not only was this man older than Bucky had been when he fell, but he _wasn't_ old enough to account for the greater part of seventy years, either. If they wanted to play on his emotions, as Tony put it, they would either have used the face from the newsreels, or an old man, not this strange point in-between.

"Yeah, well that doesn't change the fact, the most important thing we need to do right now is figure out if he's telling the truth," Steve countered. "He isn't claiming to be Bucky, in fact when I first saw him I thought- I said the name, and he- he asked _what_ Bucky was, not even who." That hurt, far more than he really wanted to think about, but he needed Tony to understand. "No, the point we need to worry about is that he's saying that _HYDRA_ is working within _SHIELD_."

Tony started doing that pacing, talking to himself, thing now. He muttered about variables and numbers, far too fast for Steve to make out their meaning. Then suddenly, he stopped, and cocked his head to the side. "JARVIS, ask our guest if he could tell us the location of the 'HYDRA' base he came from. If he does, kindly generate a digital paper trail suggesting AIM was there recently, instead... and, uh, make it hard to crack, but if anyone _does_ trace your work, make sure they think it came from that SHIELD base in Nevada - I think they called it the 'Hub'?"

"Indeed, sir," JARVIS answered.

"Remind me to send a box set of Torchwood to those guys, sometime, too," Tony added, far more offhand now. Steve had no idea what 'Torchwood' was, nor how it was relevant to SHIELD... but he did know 'box set' meant a collection of movies or TV episodes, so he knew this wasn't actually an important part of the plan, just another one of Tony's random side-thoughts.

"This is the third time you have made that suggestion, sir," JARVIS said tritely. "I believe they received said gift last month, just before your supposed 'death'."

"Always hard to think of what to get people for Christmas. Good job, JARVIS," Tony joked.

"I now have the location of the 'HYDRA' base, and have begun generating false leads, as requested, sir," JARVIS declared.

All of a sudden, Tony's face lost all trace of humour, and he turned to Steve. "So... I'm gonna go 'follow a lead on those Extremis terrorists' - aka 'AIM' - y'know, the ones who blew up my Malibu house. Hence the fake paper trail. I doubt whoever had you prisoner will still be there, but I'll be sure to get there before the rest of SHIELD, and keep all the nice toys for myself, if there's anything there to pillage."

Steve nodded. He hadn't understood everything Tony had said - he had no idea who Extremis or AIM were - but he did follow the tactics perfectly well. "Hang on a second." He quickly picked up a nearby pad of paper and a pen, and sketched out the shape of the device that had been used to trigger this latest transformation in his body.

It was distinctively curved, like a sci-fi writer who had only the vaguest idea of what a 'ray-gun' looked like had decided to make it out of coloured plastic. He handed the sketch over to Tony, within a minute of beginning. "This is the device that, uh, did this to me," he gestured to his chest. "It's kind of a neon turquoise colour, looks like plastic, or something. I swear, when I first saw it, I thought it was one of those 'Nerf' things Clint likes to torture you with."

"It's the fact he never misses..." Tony griped amicably enough, before accepting the page, and carefully examining the drawing there. "Typical sci-fi MacGuffin. Always better than a 'magic' MacGuffin. Sure. I'll keep an eye out."

"Thanks."

"Anything else?" Tony asked, as the armour swooped into the room, and wrapped itself around him.

"Nothing immediate. Just be careful."

Tony nodded, and then the helmet of his armour closed over his face... and he was off.

Steve contemplated going to check on maybe-Bucky. He still needed a name he could call him. He also considered the immediate issue of Tony going off after a hopefully-abandoned HYDRA base, on his own. It was probably the wiser option - knowing what they were facing, and with advanced reconnaissance - and Tony could likely deal with this quite easily. He had a habit of going off at random to blast terrorist bases to smithereens, this wasn't really that different.

And if they did take him by surprise, as they had done when they captured Steve, well at least he knew where Tony had gone.

The problem was, he would probably draw attention from SHIELD, by going there.

"JARVIS?" he asked, still a little uncertain of the artificial intelligence.

"Yes, Captain?" JARVIS answered, as polite as always.

"During the lead-up to the Battle of New York, Tony downloaded a lot of SHIELD intelligence, right?"

"Correct."

"You don't have to show it to me, I understand Tony's probably got security protocols or the like, but could you compile some kind of list of suspicious activity within SHIELD, especially agents keeping secrets from each other in spite of rank and protocol. We need some way to try to identify who we can trust, based on the theory that SHIELD is compromised - infested - by HYDRA. Something we can use to plan our next step, when Tony gets back."

"Certainly, I shall begin work on this project immediately," JARVIS agreed amiably.

"And let me know if you lose contact with him, for any reason."

"Of course," JARVIS agreed.

\---

Less than a minute after Steve returned to his own floor - finding maybe-Bucky eating the shawarma takeout at the kitchen table, and quietly joining him - Bruce stepped off the elevator.

"JARVIS told me what's going on," Bruce explained. "Wow, he really wasn't kidding."

"I tend not to 'kid', Dr Banner," JARVIS replied primly.

Steve closed his eyes for a moment, and took a deep breath, before speaking. "Did he tell you everything we told Tony?"

"Yeah, I think so," Bruce answered, nodding. "Said we needed to give you a medical checkup, but keep it quiet, hence me instead of an actual MD."

Steve nodded slowly. "Makes sense. I was a prisoner for over a month, and I wasn't awake for most of it."

Maybe-Bucky shot him a quizzical look, for that, but didn't speak up, just went back to his food after only a couple of seconds.

"And your friend, here," Bruce added. "We'd like to make sure Tony's scans were thorough."

Now maybe-Bucky nodded, setting his food aside and standing up. Clearly he thought confirming they weren't being tracked was a priority.

Bruce gestured for both of them to follow, and took them down in the elevator to what appeared to be an entire hospital wing built into the Tower. "This is what Tony calls 'the medbay'. I think it's evidence of his tendency to overcompensate," Bruce explained, as they were both led past a window, overlooking a room containing a large device that looked like a narrow bed with a big circle around one end. Bruce stopped at the door to said room. "Uh, this is an MRI: basically a full body scanner. Not for you-" he gestured to maybe-Bucky, who had stepped forward to volunteer to be scanned first, "Uh, metal and MRI, bad. The 'M' stands for magnetic." Maybe-Bucky frowned, and nodded slowly, stepping back again. "If you could go over there-" Bruce gestured, across the room to another device that looked very similar to the MRI. "-I'll get to you in a moment." He then turned back to Steve, and added. "Just take off anything with metal in it - that includes the bra, probably - then lay down, and hold still. I'll start the machine when you're ready. Then, I'd also like a few blood samples: you know I'd never dream of abusing them, we just want to check if they've given you anything."

Steve nodded. "The mad scientist who was experimenting on me seemed upset to discover he couldn't use my blood for anything nefarious at all, so I don't mind."

Bruce nodded, and gestured for Steve to enter the room with the machine. There was a privacy curtain to get changed behind, and Steve just made out Bruce's voice speaking to maybe-Bucky, across the room, before the door closed behind him locking out all sound. He didn't quite hear the words they exchanged, but it sounded like the beginning of another professional instruction in medical scanners, so Steve just shrugged, and began to undress. The jeans had a zipper, the boots had metal eyelets... and the bra apparently had metal in it, too? Really? Wow, whoever designed women's clothes were sadists. Really. At least there was a medical gown for him to put on, for some illusion of modesty.

He heard Bruce's footsteps returning, just as he hopped up onto the scanner, and once he was laying down he called out, "I'm ready."

At first he wasn't sure anyone heard him, but then the machine activated. It felt incredibly claustrophobic as it buzzed around him - and Steve didn't usually have problems with that, but this machine seemed designed to invoke that feeling of being trapped - but it was over reasonably quickly and completely painlessly, and soon Bruce joined him behind the curtain, and took the needed blood samples, as well.

"It must be annoying, always being mixed up with the other kind of doctor, huh?" Steve teased.

"I'm used to it," Bruce shrugged. "I've not been to medical school, but I did take a few medical courses; enough to get me into Doctors Without Borders, back when I was on the run... and working in a bio-chem field means I had to learn this sort of thing-" he gestured to the fact he was drawing blood as he spoke, "- so it's not as if I don't know what I'm doing. I promise I'd warn you if that were the case." he shook his head slightly, but his hands remained perfectly steady. "It's worse when people I barely know think I'm a psychiatrist, and want to overshare. Not that you can't talk to me, if you need to, just know I'm not qualified to give professional advice in that area."

Steve chuckled, nodding slowly. And just like that, the blood-letting was done.

This time, when he got dressed, he managed - with some difficulty, and careful examination of the evil thing beforehand - to work the accursed bra correctly.

By the time he emerged from behind the curtains, maybe-Bucky was standing there, clearly also done with his scans, as well. "Good news: no tracking detected... and I checked for everything, not just tech. There's not even any sort of radiation traces that could be obtusely or imaginatively misused for tracking," Bruce told them both, as he carried off the blood samples, towards the elevator. "I'll let you know your results, later, Cap."

Steve nodded, and then led maybe-Bucky back up to their floor.

\---

About forty minutes later, Steve heard a loud crash from the floor below, and the familiar roar of the Hulk.

\---


	7. Chapter 7

\---

"So, what should I call you, if you don't know your name?" Steve asked the man who still looked exactly like Bucky, no matter what Tony said about the ageing thing. They had just returned from the medbay, to their cooling dinner, when he had chosen to ask.

The man looked up, across the kitchen table at Steve. "HYDRA called me 'the Asset'," he answered.

"Well I'm not HYDRA, and I'm sure not going to call you that," Steve replied curtly.

He shrugged, looking away. "If I have another name, I don't remember." A slight frown crossed his face, then he looked back at Steve again. "You called me Bucky?"

"You look exactly like him," Steve repeated. "But everyone believes he died, nearly seventy years ago. Never found a body, though." It hurt to even say that, especially as he was looking right at Bucky's face. This whole situation felt needlessly cruel, in Steve's opinion. "He was my best friend."

The man wearing Bucky's face frowned slightly. "That makes you a lot older than you look," he observed.

Steve just shrugged at that. It was true.

"You wouldn't want to be reminded of that. I shouldn't use that name."

"So... I don't know, just pick a name at random?" Steve suggested. "Whatever feels right?"

He nodded slowly. "I'm sure I've used aliases that way, in the past." He thought about it for a few seconds, before finally offering up a name. "James."

Well damn.

Steve decided  _ not _ to explain why that was just as bad. He should be considering this man's feelings in the matter as well, and the last thing he should do was to knock down an attempt at independent choice from someone who had been used the way he had implied.

"Okay, James," he said, with a nod. "My name's Steve."

There was an odd flicker in his eyes, before he said, "Doesn't sound like a girl's name."

Steve rolled his eyes. He was already quite uncomfortable with the physical transformation, and on top of that, it was bad enough that Tony had called him a 'woman'... but to be called a 'girl' was somehow even more annoying. "Because I'm not. You heard Tony earlier, right?"

James nodded slowly. "He implied it was surprising that you were a woman. Used the phrase 'sex change'."

"Do you know what HYDRA did to me, before giving you that order?" Steve asked. James shook his head, frowning at the reminder. "I'm fairly sure their main goal, in capturing me in the first place, was to try to use my blood to recreate the super-soldier serum I had previously been given. It didn't work, so the man in charge gave the scientist free reign to do whatever other experiments wouldn't kill me. I think he wanted to keep me - to brainwash me later - but maybe he also valued the scientist enough to let him play first?"

"Makes sense," James agreed with a curt nod.

"Well, one of the 'experiments' they did was use me as a test subject to try to work out what some unidentified 'alien weapons' did. One of them did this." He gestured vaguely to his chest.

"I see," James answered simply. The calculating look in his eyes, and mild disgust on his face, told Steve that he could easily put that together with the orders he had been given, and now clearly understood what HYDRA's goal must have been.

And the conversation awkwardly died, after that. They finished their meal in silence, and James cleared away the takeout wrappers - an impressive feat with only one arm. It was pretty clear from the way he moved that he was almost as accustomed to going without the artificial arm, as he was with it. He was just scanning the room, apparently unsure of what to do next, when they heard the crash from downstairs.

In an instant, they were both on their guard, ready for a fight... but Steve relaxed marginally when they heard the Hulk roar. He looked to James cautiously.

"I think I know what just happened," he said carefully. "If I'm right, it's not an enemy. Wait here; if you don't recognise it, don't kill it, okay?" James raised an eyebrow sceptically at this, and Steve clarified. "I imagine you'd recognise HYDRA?"

A bitter snort and a curt nod were his answer to that.

Steve quickly took the elevator, asking JARVIS to take him directly to wherever the Hulk was right now. It brought him out in another open living space, very like his own except this one had been decorated. The walls were painted a soft shade of pale blue, and there were peaceful landscape paintings hanging from the walls, as well as personal effects on the tables and bookshelves... and one of the two side-doors was reinforced metal. This must be Bruce's floor.

In the middle of the room stood the Hulk, turning to growl at Steve... but he didn't make any genuinely hostile move. He looked less like an uncontrollable rage beast, and more like a child just realising that they had thrown a tantrum, and maybe they shouldn't have. He was glaring, trembling with rage, but not lashing out now.

Steve held his hands out to the sides, to show he meant no harm, and Hulk turned fully to face him, backing off a step to mirror the non-hostile stance.

"Hey, big guy," Steve said gently. He took a lot of his cues, for how to behave around the Hulk, from the way Tony spoke to him, because Hulk seemed to like Tony. "What happened?"

Hulk glared over his shoulder at a smashed desk, with an equally destroyed laptop amidst its ruins. He snorted, and spoke gruffly, "Bad men, hurt friend."

Bruce must have felt strongly about the results of Steve's scans. Well, that wasn't reassuring, in the least. Still, right now the important thing was to keep the Hulk calm; he could worry about what brought him out later. So he slowly took a calming breath, as much for his own benefit as Hulk's, and then smiled warmly at the big green monster. "I'm fine now, see?"

Hulk frowned, looking from the ruined computer to Steve, and back again. Finally, he nodded slowly, and sat down heavily on the floor. He was so huge that this action just put him on eye-level with Steve, now. But he wasn't looking at Steve, he was staring around the room, almost with wonder, and suddenly Steve realised something... to his knowledge, Hulk had never come out when there wasn't a fight to be had, before. He was confused, and awed at the peacefulness of Bruce's living quarters.

"You okay, big guy?" he asked carefully.

Hulk looked at him now, and nodded slowly. "Friend safe here. Hulk smash bad men," he declared, pounding one fist into the other palm, to demonstrate this.

"No offence, you're good at smashing, but I'd rather break them myself, if you don't mind," Steve said, smirking faintly.

Hulk grinned broadly at that. "Hulk smash big monsters," he said, enthusiastically raising a fist skywards, likely referring to the Chitauri Leviathans he had taken out during the Battle of New York. Then he pointed to Steve. "Friend smash puny humans."

"Deal," Steve agreed.

Just then, Tony arrived, fully armoured, from the elevator. He took a moment to take in the destroyed desk and computer, then the peacefully seated Hulk who had just been talking to Steve. "What's going on here, then?" he asked, finally allowing the faceplate of his armour to retract.

"I think Dr Banner read my medical scans," Steve answered bluntly.

Tony stared at the Hulk for all of two seconds, before looking at Steve with a frown. "Okay, what didn't you tell me?"

"You're the genius, Tony," Steve retorted, folding his arms - a bit awkwardly, because he had no idea where to put them in relation to these new breasts - and scowling at Tony. "HYDRA grew out of the Nazi movement: eugenics, and the like. I'm a super-soldier... and our friend upstairs described himself as their weapon. Do the maths."

"Aaaand I'm going to be sick," Tony said, looking obviously disgusted. "Thanks for that mental picture."

"Oh yeah, you're the one who's bothered by mental pictures," Steve all but growled. "I'm the one it nearly happened to." But he wasn't exactly angry, especially not at his team-mates - his friends. There was an air of defeat in the room, at having admitted it, and rather than raising tempers it was somehow muting everything around him.

He barely noticed the flicker of movement from where Hulk had been, until he saw Bruce awkwardly adjusting the super-pants Tony had made to fit no matter which form he took, and looking forlornly at the ruined remains of a shirt on the floor.

"I'm sorry, Steve," Bruce said softly.

"Please tell me the word 'nearly' belonged in that last sentence," Tony all but demanded.

Steve was immensely relieved to see Bruce nod at that. "Yeah, I- I found evidence of fertility drugs in your system, but no sign of- well, anything else," he explained.

"Good," Tony said bluntly. "It's bad form to murder a house-guest."

"JARVIS, could you tell our guest that everything's okay down here?" Steve asked hopefully. He glanced at Tony, and explained, "The Hulk made a lot of noise, he's probably expecting an enemy invasion, or something."

"No need to worry, Captain," JARVIS answered. "As soon as I determined that the Hulk was behaving in a docile manner, I assured our guest that all was well. He is currently examining his new sleeping arrangements."

Steve gave Tony a sideways look that warned the genius his next words were going to be awkward. "Since he said he didn't know his name, I suggested he pick one at random."

"And...?" Tony asked, his tone clearly conveying that he got the warning.

"James."

Tony covered his face with one hand. "If I'm getting a headache, it must be worse for you, right?" he asked. It was true enough.

Bruce looked confused, though. "Uh, what am I missing here?"

Tony was the one to answer, irreverent as always. "Our newest addition to the brainwashed games, upstairs. JARVIS told you he was HYDRA's pet, right?" Bruce nodded, and Tony continued. "Well he looks eerily like all those old photos of Cap's best friend - the only other one of his team, from back in the War, presumed dead in the line of duty - James Buchanan Barnes."

"Everyone called him Bucky," Steve said, feeling oddly distant from the conversation, in spite of the way it hurt to talk about. "Even his own mother never called him James, unless he was in trouble."

"But it's still his name, and it's still creepy as hell that his doppelganger picked it," Tony concluded. Steve nodded slowly in agreement.

After a moment of solemn contemplation, Bruce was the one to speak up. "Your blood results might have been what set the Hulk off - I know you; it feels more personal to see a threat to a friend than a stranger - but his results were... so much worse, in a lot of ways."

"How?" Tony asked with a frown.

"Old scars that looked like torture," Bruce began. "Most of it's internal, but there are marks on his back that I swear look like he was  _ whipped _ . It also looks like he's been on the wrong end of the worst kind of abuse of electro-shock therapy, the kind of sick shit they used to do in asylums. The metal in his shoulder is - well, academically, I get that they put that there for the prosthetic arm Tony removed, but I'd classify it as torture in its own right, as well. I'm confident it  _ could _ be surgically removed, but that's far beyond my skills."   
  
"There are other options for the missing limb, besides the obvious me making a prosthetic... they just don't  _ officially _ exist," Tony put in. "No way in hell I'm telling anyone that stuff could be stabilised, after what AIM used it for."

Bruce nodded slowly. Clearly he knew about whatever these 'other options' were, but Steve had no idea... except that Tony had mentioned AIM earlier, implying they were terrorists.

"There is actual physical damage to his brain," Bruce continued. "I'm not an expert, but since he's functioning relatively normally, I'm assuming it was deliberately targeted. It is theoretically possible - but obviously cruel and unusual - to alter memories with that kind of... I'm unwilling to dignify it with the word 'treatment'."

"He did say he didn't remember anything before some time last night," Steve pointed out. "Except for the conditioning they'd given him. What he called 'facts'."

"That HYDRA would find him. Patently false, as we've proved," Tony said. "By the way, their M.O.  _ does _ look like HYDRA. The base was nearly cleared out when I got there. Only half a dozen men, and of those only one of them survived to be captured for interrogation. I've got him in one of my own little safehouses. SHIELD thinks there were no survivors... but I didn't kill anyone, they did that whole suicide capsule thing the old reports said HYDRA were quite fond of."

Steve frowned, remembering with discomfort the first HYDRA agent he'd pursued after the serum - the man who murdered Erskine, and when captured had then killed himself with the  _ proud _ last words of 'Hail HYDRA'.

"Sorry, Cap. I didn't find the ray-gun-looking thing," Tony continued. "Like I said, they were cleaning house when I got there."

"I'm surprised one of them survived," Steve admitted.

"He had the cyanide capsule, he just didn't use it," Tony explained, with a cold grin. "Actually spat it out, and complained; 'nobody's paying me enough for Avengers-level shit'."

Steve snorted. It was kind of funny, he just didn't have the emotional capacity to actually laugh, at the moment. "What's a reasonable cash wager, in this century?" he asked suddenly. He remembered Fury betting him ten dollars on the idea that he couldn't be surprised anymore, but wasn't sure if that was a usual number in this time, or not.

"Depends," Bruce answered. "For normal people, five or ten bucks. For Tony, you need to start at around a thousand."

Steve met Tony's eyes at that, saw the challenge there, and decided to accept it. "A thousand dollars says your prisoner's name is Dave."

Tony stared at Steve for almost five full seconds, before shaking his head, and  _ actually pulling a thousand dollar bill out of his pocket, and handing it over to Steve. _

Bruce stared at them both. "Where the hell do you expect him to be able to spend that, and get change?" he grumbled, clearly surprised by the exchange.

Tony shrugged. "I'm more interested in how he knew the guy's name."

\---


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for one seriously messed up dream sequence that manages to include references to rape, victim blaming, intrusive thoughts, and probably a whole lot else I can't think of the right words to name, right now. I literally put off posting this chapter because I wasn't sure how to explain the creeped out feeling in my gut as I wrote/reread that part.

\---

It had been getting late, when Tony had returned from his recon mission, and he assured Steve that their prisoner wasn't going anywhere, and JARVIS was keeping an eye on him... so Steve finally made his way back up to his own floor of the Tower.

"Your guest is already asleep," JARVIS informed Steve, as he arrived in the open living space. "He took the blankets from the bed, and chose to sleep on the couch." Steve glanced in the direction of the guest suite to his left, before shrugging and making his way through the door to the right instead... to the space Tony had said was his own private rooms.

He found himself in a spacious sitting room, with its own television and a comfortable couch facing said television, a large desk in one corner, with a plush leather chair in front of it, more bookshelves than Steve had ever seen in one place outside of an actual library... and another door to the right again, which led into the bedroom. There was an en-suite bathroom, and a huge walk-in closet. He imagined the other suite - James' suite - as the mirror image of this one. These private rooms were at least twice the size of SHIELD's 'standard' living quarters - and Tony had said the entire floor was for Steve - and everything was sleek and shiny, and generally very expensive-looking.

He was certainly grateful to Tony for offering this, but it still felt like far too much. But Tony seemed eager to make sure his friends were comfortable, and this was probably Tony's idea of lowest possible standard for himself and his friends... so Steve made the conscious choice not to complain.

He checked the wardrobe and bathroom, and realised the only change of clothes he had was in the bag James had packed. After a moment's thought, he asked, "JARVIS?"

"Yes, Captain?" the AI answered politely.

"I'm going to need some more clothes. I don't suppose you could make any recommendations?"

JARVIS took a few seconds longer than usual to reply, giving the illusion of needing the extra time to think about it. "I assume you would prefer not to make these purchases in person?"

"Given a choice, yes," Steve said. He wasn't fond of shopping for clothes at the best of times, but right now the last thing he wanted to do was leave a secure base of operations while potentially physically vulnerable.

"I would strongly recommend against ordering clothing online, aside from a select few outlets Ms Potts has personally approved... which are all rather high-end, I'm afraid," JARVIS explained. "According to Ms Potts, most size guidelines for women's clothing are deliberately misleading... and possibly an evil plot of some nefarious variety." Steve chuckled at the 'evil plot' part of that, but if that was true, then it must be  _ really _ annoying.

"I still don't understand why people assume I'd be offended by expensive things," he muttered aloud. He wouldn't retort this impolitely, over something so trivial, normally... but JARVIS felt different from speaking this way to someone's face, and it made him slightly more comfortable revealing his true feelings. "It's  _ frivolous _ spending I was raised to avoid; if I can afford something 'high-end', as you word it, that's better quality for it, I'd prefer it to be honest."

"Ms Potts and Mr Vimes concur," JARVIS replied smoothly.

"Mr Vimes?" Steve asked, curious.

"I shall send the recommended reading material to the StarkPad in your desk, Captain." Steve rolled his eyes, faintly amused again. That was the exact same way Tony behaved about recommending movies or TV shows. JARVIS continued smoothly, "I can place orders on your behalf, with these approved outlets, if you would be willing to provide required measurements."

Steve frowned, but nodded slowly. "I guess that'll have to do." He was a little bit surprised that JARVIS wasn't able to figure out these measurements, from the surveillance in the Tower, but he guessed it made sense that there were still some things technology couldn't do, and he wasn't going to argue with the incredibly helpful AI.

JARVIS directed him to the desk, where he found a measuring tape in one of the drawers (along with the aforementioned StarkPad, and a wide variety of other assorted tools), and after a few very uncomfortable minutes, he had provided the information needed. It wasn't as bad as he'd been expecting, although it was a bit embarrassing when JARVIS had to correct him when he tried to measure bra size.

He complained about bras, as a concept in general... to which JARVIS assured him this was a common opinion held among the women he knew, and offered to order 'sports bras', which would serve the same purpose with nowhere near so much discomfort. It was especially awkward to hear the AI blandly describe his altered body as 'not requiring the level of support offered by more traditional bras'. The whole ordeal was made a lot easier, by JARVIS recommending women's fashion based on Pepper Potts' recorded opinions, with only a few minor requests from himself, such as no heels, no skirts, and nothing that could be described as 'sexy', even by a drunk Tony Stark.

Apparently that last one narrowed things down a  _ lot _ .

JARVIS politely ended the discussion, by promising that the requested garments would arrive in the morning, and Steve thanked him for his help.

He then returned to the wardrobe, and glared at the only clothing that  _ had _ been provided. There were half a dozen sets of soft, comfortable-looking pyjamas. They looked like they were meant to fit Steve's male body, but the pants had a drawstring so he could tighten it around the slimmer waist he now had. The problem was that they had the words 'I LOVE IRON MAN' - where the first 'O' was replaced with an appropriately positioned image of an arc reactor - emblazoned across the chest. The printed patterns on the pants depicted various Avengers in fighting poses, in a way that might suit children's pyjamas, but definitely not adults'.

He knew Tony's sense of humour often veered into childish territory, when it wasn't preoccupied with the lecherous, but this was a bit extreme, in his opinion. On the other hand, he could just imagine Thor wearing these and thinking something like 'adorning oneself in the images of one's shield-brothers' was normal for humans... he tried very hard not to laugh at that mental picture.

"Nope," Steve muttered to himself, closing the wardrobe door, and deciding to just wear the t-shirt and underwear he had on now to sleep. "JARVIS, can you also order me some plain sleepwear, please?"

"Of course, Captain. Apologies for the inconvenience."

\---

Steve Rogers was a virgin. This was not something he advertised, but it was a fact.

He may have been raised Catholic, but that had never been a major factor in any of his motivations or morals. Just because he had been told that sex before marriage was a sin, didn't mean he felt that way himself. He honestly wasn't entirely sure how he would react if it were offered, because he simply hadn't had the opportunity; no one had ever expressed any romantic or sexual interest in him before the serum, and afterwards he had been focused on winning the war, and then... well...

He knew that modern society was a lot less strict about that sort of thing, though he still didn't really feel comfortable with the idea of that sort of intimacy. He didn't feel it was wrong, so much as the lack of experience by this stage in his life left him lacking the confidence to attempt it. He barely tolerated Natasha's subtle attempts to set him up on dates, though romance would likely be a lot easier to manage than the modern 'dating scene' of casual sex and one-night-stands.

In spite of the assumptions of others that he was some sort of pure icon, unsullied by such things, he was in fact a living breathing human being, and he still felt sexual urges. He still had fantasies.

This wasn't his first sex dream. Nor was it even his first sexual thought about a man.

Like all his other dreams of this nature, it was more of an idea than any realistic physical experience. He only had a rough guess at what real sex would feel like, and this time it was even more surreal, because it involved his newly altered, still unfamiliar, feminine body.

When it came to sexual attraction, Steve definitely had a type; lean, athletic brunettes. If one were to judge purely on looks, then the most gorgeous person he'd ever seen was probably Loki. To be fair, there was something about the otherworldliness of Thor and Loki that seemed to do it for a  _ lot _ of people. Yet still, Peggy was an extremely close second... and Peggy won by a margin of literal infinity once personalities were taken into account.

He didn't see the face of the man in the dream, only a vague sense that he fit Steve's type... and that they were both enjoying themselves. He was strong, possibly a match for Steve, though Steve didn't put up much of a fight as the man pinned his wrists above his head...

But then, just as Steve cried out in ecstasy, the man leaned close to his ear, and whispered, "Hail HYDRA."

\---

Steve bolted upright, awake in an instant, utterly shocked and horrified. He was almost shaking.

Everything up to that last part had felt so good, but... he shuddered with revulsion, wrapping his arms around himself defensively, as he tried to resist the very real urge to vomit. He recognised that voice. It was usually in his nightmares.

Johann Schmidt.

Once he had fought down the urge to be sick, he slowly made his way to the bathroom to clean up, only belatedly realising that the female body dealt with the fallout of a wet dream a  _ lot _ better than the male body did.

At least he didn't have to change the bedsheets.

Still disgusted with himself for that dream, and trying very hard  _ not _ to think about it, he dressed and made his way into the kitchen to get a glass of water. It was still dark outside, but he couldn't be bothered to check the time. He wasn't going back to sleep after that.

"Is something the matter, Captain?" JARVIS asked him, in the empty room.

"Just a dream, JARVIS," he answered honestly, though there was a slight waver in his voice. The AI, being integrated with the building's security systems, could likely see everything that happened in the Tower... including Steve's bedroom. There was no point lying.

That absolutely did not mean he wanted to talk about it, either.

"It is often theorised that dreams are the subconscious mind's attempt to make sense of recent events," JARVIS observed in a tone that was not merely calm, but also gently soothing. "It is understandable that they could be distressing, given said recent events."

Steve blinked, and suddenly it made perfect sense.

He was at least a little bit curious about the recent changes to his body. He hadn't done more than was necessary for the basic personal hygiene of taking a shower and using the bathroom... and measuring his bra size... but the idea of sex itself, in this form, was no more unsettling than the same concept was in his male form. It was new, strange, and perhaps not entirely  _ right _ ... but the circumstances around the change were what really horrified him, not the change itself.

That HYDRA scientist had planned to  _ breed _ Steve with what he was pretty sure was their version of a super soldier. Schmidt had been the embodiment of HYDRA itself, as well as a super soldier in his own right.

What really felt wrong was the way those pieces had been put together... that it had started out like that much more pleasant sort of dream, but then... what awful things did it say about Steve's subconscious mind, that he conjured  _ that _ voice alongside that experience?

He shivered again, still feeling the echoes of hands gripping his arms, pinning him down, lips brushed against his, breath against his ear - sensations he knew well enough, from lived experience, for the dream to conjure them more realistically than the rest - and suddenly he was intensely, in his very soul, grateful to the man who had saved him from learning those sensations in the very worst way.

He fought down another wave of nausea at the thought. This whole situation was so thoroughly messed up, but the dream just made it all feel so much worse.

"Uh... thanks, JARVIS. That does help." It was true, even if it didn't help very much. "Where's-" he only just stopped himself from saying Bucky, "-where's James?"

"He was also unable to sleep, and is currently in the gym," JARVIS answered.

"Thanks," Steve said again, before getting up and heading for the elevator. That sounded like a very good idea. He needed to clear his head, and working out always helped with that.

True enough, he found James in the gym, trying very hard to destroy one of Tony's patented 'Thorproof' punching bags. He was doing a surprisingly efficient job of it, for only having one arm, and seemed to be using some form of martial art - rather than traditional boxing - that involved an awful lot of kicks.

If what JARVIS had said about dreams was true, then it made a lot of sense out of the nightmares most people had after battle, as well. He wondered what sort of nightmares HYDRA's 'weapon' had.

James noticed him almost immediately, but didn't stop until Steve approached. When he did, he caught the punching bag with his one hand, to stop it from swinging wildly, and turned to face Steve, a mildly curious expression on his face.

"Couldn't sleep either?" Steve asked.

James nodded curtly, and said, "JARVIS told me I could come down here to train."

Steve nodded as well, a bit unsure of how to take that. It could be interpreted several different ways. "Yeah. Um, do you want to spar or something?"

James gave him an evaluating look. "I'm not operating at peak efficiency, without my arm."

"You don't need to worry about that. Tony'll figure out something to replace it," Steve said, shrugging. "And I'm pretty sure I won't be at my best, either. I've not tried fighting with this body yet."

James eyed up said body, but his gaze seemed tactically evaluating, rather than anything inappropriate. "Okay," he said simply.

\---

James was an amazing fighter.

Steve didn't recognise the style, but whatever it was used his whole body, not just his fists or his feet. His movements were fluid and difficult to predict, and his reaction times were downright scary. There was also a certainty and confidence in the way he fought that had been absent in his other interactions with the team. It was clear that, in combat he was the one in control... but in other human interactions he was - by comparison - shockingly submissive.

Sure, he had tried to give Steve orders, when they first met, but when those orders had been rejected, he had conceded without argument. Simply made his observation about the danger, and let Steve make all the decisions from then on.

In a fight, on the other hand, he seemed almost unstoppable... and this was the opinion of a man who had fought 'gods'.

Steve, meanwhile, found that fighting in this altered body wasn't very different after all. He had spent enough time adapting to the change in his balance that it didn't seem to have too much of an impact, and it was a friendly spar so he wasn't using his full strength with each blow anyway.

The breasts got in the way at first, but he gradually adapted.

And on the other hand, much as the presence of the breasts got in the way, the  _ absence _ of certain other parts was notable as well. There's only so much a pair of well-designed pants can do to prevent friction or discomfort, but not possessing the parts that get uncomfortable did seem to solve that problem.

As they both sat down to rehydrate and catch their breath, after a particularly drawn out fight, James actually asked, "What's it like? Being female?"

Steve shrugged. "It balances out, I think," he answered honestly. "Need a good sports bra to replace a good jockstrap."

James chuckled. "Female assassins are more efficient, overall." He then frowned, and shook his head. "Uh, I think. According to HYDRA?" He shrugged, looking a bit uncomfortable with that line of thought.

"I'd believe them on that one," Steve said casually. "I've met the Black Widow."

James looked at him with surprise. "And you're alive?"

"Yeah, we were on the same side."

James frowned slightly at that, but then shrugged. "I don't know much about her. Russia's best. Briefly worked with a mutual ally of HYDRA's, in the late nineties. Defected in oh-four. With SHIELD now. Standing orders to avoid if possible, but deadly force is authorised if she gets in the way of a mission." He glanced warily at Steve. "Sorry, I don't like the orders either, but since I don't have a mission I don't have any reason to try to kill her, so-" he shrugged slightly.

Steve nodded, frowning at that. "Yeah, well. We should try to figure out a way to get those orders out of your head, so you can be your own person, right?"

James smiled faintly. "Sounds like a good plan," he said, raising his water bottle in a mock toast.

\---


	9. Chapter 9

\---

When they returned to Steve's floor in the Tower, they found Bruce waiting for them, at the kitchen table. It was still early, but there was at least some daylight now, and he had brought breakfast bagels and coffee.

He had also brought a fistful of leaflets.

Steve deeply disliked leaflets like these. When he had first woken up in this new era, he had been given practically an entire dictionary's worth of them, to explain things they thought he might not get. They were clearly designed to be read by people who both had no idea of the subject matter whatsoever, and very low intelligence as well.

Bruce set the leaflets in two piles, one in front of Steve, the other in front of James, along with their share of the coffees and bagels.

Steve glanced at his own pile first. There were only three, and he quickly skimmed over the titles:

_ PTSD, Trauma, and Coping with the Aftermath of Abuse  
_ _ Rape and Sexual Assault Survivor's Guide  
_ __ Gender Dysphoria

He frowned at these, and then glared at Bruce, who shrugged innocently. "Figured you might not want to talk about it."

Steve held his gaze firmly. "I wasn't raped."

"No, but the threat was still real." Steve did  _ not _ miss the way James looked at him, when Bruce said that. Guilty and apologetic.

Steve felt immediately offended. "Don't look at me like that!" he said sharply. "You  _ prevented _ that from happening. You did the  _ right thing _ ."

James looked away, turning his attention to his own pile of leaflets. He had six, and only one of them matched up with one of Steve's. The one about PTSD. He seemed uncertain, as if he really did blame himself for being a part of HYDRA, even though he had gone to such lengths to get away from them at the first opportunity.

Steve sighed, and looked back to Bruce again. "I don't generally appreciate this sort of leaflet," he said, with a bitter smile. "You should ask Fury what happened to the last ones I got, sometime."

Bruce chuckled at that, and even James seemed to relax, beginning to actually read his own leaflets with much more interest than Steve deigned to give the things.

Reluctantly, Steve picked up the least offensive of his three leaflets -  _ Gender Dysphoria _ \- and opened it. "I accept your peace offering," he declared, picking up the coffee and holding it up to clearly define it as said offering, before taking a sip.

Bruce smiled. "Let me know if you have any questions."

James nodded, absently reaching for one of the bagels that had been placed in front of him, without taking his eyes off the page he was reading.

"Thanks, we will," Steve agreed.

Bruce politely left them alone.

Steve allowed the silence to draw out, while they both ate, and James read quietly and intently. Finally, when James closed the last of his pamphlets, Steve spoke up.

"What was it like... with HYDRA?"

James frowned slightly, and looked up, but not at Steve. His gaze was fixed across the far side of the table instead, while Steve was sitting next to him. "I don't remember much," he admitted. "It's mostly those 'facts' I mentioned, before." And wow, but he put a Tony Stark grade of sarcasm into the word 'facts'. "I'm a weapon. I have a singular purpose, to follow my orders. I don't  _ like _ obeying them, but I don't have a choice."

"Did they hurt you?" Steve asked, frowning.

James shook his head slightly. "It's unacceptable to mistreat a weapon. Might make it misfire." A slightly bitter smile flitted across his face for a moment. "I'm sure that rule came from somewhere, but I don't remember. Thing is, I'm expected to obey that one, too; have to maintain peak performance, can't neglect my physical health. If it weren't for that rule, I imagine I'd test their patience a lot more; wait for direct orders to eat or sleep or the like, just out of spite. I'm fairly sure most of them don't realise I'm capable of independent thought or action, they hold classified conversations right in front of me, like I can't understand them... or they just don't care. I- I know a lot about how to exist outside their direct control... even if it's all filed under 'maintaining cover on mission', rather than as something I should do normally. I don't think I'm supposed to know how wrong that is."

There was a long, uncomfortable pause, then. Steve wondered with awe and horror what it must have been like to live like that. He still hadn't made up his mind whether to hope this man was Bucky, because he needed his best friend back... or hope that he wasn't, because what sort of monster would wish that fate on someone they cared so deeply for.

"I had no choice," James said softly, bowing his head. "I know that the alternative to obedience is-" he stopped, shook his head slightly, and tried again. "I know I've disobeyed before. I don't remember the experience of the punishment, but I know that it's- that I can't. I can't let them do that to me again."

Steve reached out a hand, gently resting it on James' shoulder. It was his left shoulder, Steve could see the metal connectors still in his body, and they looked terribly uncomfortable. "But you rescued me," he observed.

A faint self-depreciating smile flickered on James' face for an instant, but then it was gone again. "I was already going to be punished for killing my handlers. Contradictory orders aren't an excuse when a superior officer is angry... and from what you've told me that scientist was favoured by those in charge. I figured I could at least get you away from them, before they caught up to me. Didn't expect to end up here." His eyes darted briefly to meet Steve's. "Not that I'm complaining."

"You really hated them, huh?"

Steve fully understood the fact that his enemies were (mostly) just people. He knew ordinary people could join extraordinary groups, both for good and evil. The idea of people liking HYDRA wasn't alien to him, just morally wrong. He didn't dehumanise them, simply wanted to stop them from causing harm. When he had first been confronted with the claim that this man  _ belonged _ to HYDRA, he hadn't been sure how to feel - beyond the initial shock and horror that HYDRA still existed, of course - and it was reassuring to hear that in spite of the effort they had clearly put in to making him obedient, he still fought against them wherever he could.

"I'm fairly sure, if I liked them I wouldn't have needed to be... controlled. I obeyed because I had to, not because I wanted to."

Steve frowned thoughtfully at that, remembering the man in the suit talking about making  _ him _ more 'compliant'. "If you didn't want to obey, how did they make you?"

"I don't know," James said, shaking his head as if that motion might dislodge the answer from whatever depths of his mind it was concealed in. "I just know I can't disobey. I don't know how or why that is. I'm sure if a HYDRA agent walked into this room right now and issued an order, I'd be unable to resist." He finally met Steve's gaze. "I would  _ try _ to resist, but I don't think I could."

Steve nodded sadly. He hated what he was hearing, that they had done this to him. Whether he turned out to be Bucky or not, no one deserved that.

"Well they won't be getting in here very easily, I can tell you that," he offered, his best attempt at reassurance. "Even if we hadn't disposed of the tracking device, Tony's security systems are the best."

James nodded in acceptance of these words, though whether he believed it or not Steve couldn't tell.

\---

After breakfast, Tony showed up, coffee in hand. He gave off the air of not having slept very well, and only just woken very recently. Not that it showed in his neat clothing; he wore an immaculate suit, and looked ready to psychologically terrorise a corporate board room. The lack of sleep only really showed in his face, and added something dangerous in combination with the otherwise impressive presentation.

"JARVIS tells me I'm not alone in the not-sleeping deal," Tony announced, glancing at the two of them.

Steve had been in the middle of clearing away the packaging from their takeout breakfast, while James still had his leaflets, and was currently reading - or possibly only pretending to read, to avoid direct attention - one titled  _ 'Resisting Brainwashing in International Espionage' _ .

Tony seemed to spot this, and asked, "Did they give you  _ 'Recovering From Torture in Enemy Territory' _ ? I tried to force-feed my copy to Agent Agent, for that."

James snorted, somewhere between derisive and amused. Steve answered, "I didn't see that one. I'd honestly not be surprised; SHIELD has a leaflet for everything, but I think Bruce got most of these from more mundane sources."

"Aww, shame," Tony grinned darkly. "SHIELD leaflets have a dreadful sense of humour. I almost liked them."

"I think this one is SHIELD, then," James answered, finally setting the offending reading material aside.  Tony nodded sagely and took a swig of his coffee.

"Where did Bruce get his hands on SHIELD leaflets about brainwashing?" Steve dared to ask.

"General Ross is an 'any means necessary' kind of guy," Tony observed, a hint of bitterness entering his voice, likely recalling his own unpleasant encounters with the General in question. "And I'd not be surprised if Fury went all out to get Brucie on board with the whole Avengers deal."

"Can we even trust Fury?" Steve asked, suddenly feeling sick at that thought. The resources Fury had at his disposal were, quite frankly, terrifying.

"I never did, I just worked with him anyway," Tony said, shrugging. "World about to end is good motivation, mind you."

Steve nodded slowly. "JARVIS, have you told Tony about that data analysis project I requested?"

"Indeed I have, Captain," JARVIS answered.

"Good place to start, but not enough to be going on in the long term," Tony nodded. "How about we go - how did Thor put it? -  _ Have Words With _ Dave?" He gestured to the elevator and took a step in that direction, to clearly indicate they were going now.

Steve chuckled at the tone Tony used there, then nodded and turned to James, "You be okay here? JARVIS and Bruce will still be around, if you need anything."

James simply nodded.

Steve stood up and headed for the elevator, Tony falling into step with him as he went.

"So... good cop, bad cop?" Tony asked, as the doors closed and the elevator began to descend.

Steve gave him a sideways look, one eyebrow raised. He didn't get the reference, and made that clear on his face.

"One person starts the interrogation all aggressive and asshole - probably me," Tony explained. "If the interrogatee doesn't cooperate, then the 'good cop' comes in, acts sympathetic, shows compassion, warns that they can't control the 'bad cop'... practical application of psychology to police work, think the term originated in the seventies, but I'll bet the premise is old as dirt. Either way, it's in most films these days."

Steve nodded in understanding - they hadn't explicitly named it, but Steve and Bucky had used that method on HYDRA soldiers during the war; Bucky made a very effective 'bad cop' - but then after a moment shook his head. "I'll be the bad cop." Tony gave him a curious look for that. "I was the victim, if our information is right he's HYDRA, I've got more motive than you."

Tony nodded at that explanation. "Never pictured you as the type."

"You ever been in a real war?" Steve asked him, "Not just one big fight, but the longer, drawn out sort."

Tony shook his head. "No... I don't think my stint in Afghanistan really counts as that," he said, with absolutely no trace of sarcasm.

"Sometimes you gotta do bad things for good reasons. This won't be my first time interrogating a HYDRA agent."

Tony clearly tried to hide it, but he failed to repress a shudder at that thought. They continued from there in silence.

Tony took him to a private car park in the basement, to a plain black car that looked sleek but not flashy - not too obvious, so they wouldn't stand out - with tinted windows. There was an unfamiliar man driving, and Tony only broke the silence as they pulled out in to the New York streets.

"Happy, this is my extremely platonic new friend Stevie. Stevie, Happy Hogan," he introduced the driver.

"Nice to meet you, Happy," Steve said politely, feeling a bit irritated about the misuse of his name. Only his ma and Bucky had ever called him that before. To his face, anyway. But apparently it passed for an acceptable female name, because Happy showed no confusion at it.

"Likewise, Ma'am," Happy said with a nod to Steve in the rearview mirror. "Y'know, two years ago, I'd not buy that, boss." Happy teased, clearly referring to the 'platonic' part of the introduction.

Tony shrugged. "I don't think I'm her type."

"Wow, there is so much about me you don't know, Tony," Steve said with a laugh.

"Wait, you're- no, not having that conversation in front of Happy, he'd never let me live it down. Nope." Tony sat back in his seat and sulked for a moment, before finding a harmless topic to change the subject to.

The atmosphere during the drive was cordial, but a little bit stilted. Happy was professional and clearly an employee more than a friend, even if it did quickly become clear that he genuinely cared about his boss, and vice versa. Tony had chosen not to identify Steve to Happy, so there was a lot that he couldn't say... and a fair few obvious modern references he couldn't ask the meaning of without sounding suspicious. He trusted Tony's judgement here, because Tony knew Happy better, and Steve got the feeling he really would tell him the truth if and when it became a good idea.

Sooner than he'd like, they pulled up into the garage of a nondescript building outside the city. Tony quickly scrambled out of the car, and Happy showed a surprising level of chivalry for the century by opening Steve's door for him. 

Thankfully, no awkward questions were asked about what Tony could be doing bringing an unfamiliar woman to an apparently-abandoned building out of the way, like this. That was both a relief that no lies needed to be told, and a bit unsettling when one considered the possible horrible things that could happen if Tony were a different sort of man.

Steve awkwardly mumbled a thanks, and followed Tony, leaving the driver to mind the car.

\---


	10. Chapter 10

\---

Dave really had not struck Steve as the 'die for a cause' type. More of an average Joe, lacking just enough morals to take a job working for villains. It was kind of amazing to imagine that someone like that could have made it onto HYDRA's payroll, really. In Steve's experience, they had preferred to indoctrinate true zealots.

The secure facility that Tony had put Dave in was basically a bomb shelter in the basement of the building he had brought Steve to. Tony commented that it had been stocked up with non-perishable food, and was capable of keeping a family of four secure and alive for a decade, long before Tony even considered using it as a makeshift prison.

All Tony had done to make the shelter secure was to weld the main door shut from the outside.

JARVIS was connected to this building, welcoming them as they entered and began heading for the basement, and informing them that 'the prisoner' was still in the 'newly designated holding area', alive and well.

Tony took the time to unseal the door safely and correctly, then gestured for Steve to lead the way, with a snide, "Ladies first."

Steve shot him an irritated look for that remark, but chose not to comment as he descended into the old bomb shelter, down some very steep steps, and took in the space around them.

It was stunningly nice for a holding area, in his opinion, but then again Steve guessed that while Tony might be rich and influential, even that wouldn't mean he could just have a private prison sitting around, especially not one nobody else knew about... thus he had used the next best thing.

There was a comfortable couch, with a low table in front of it, and what he understood was a very old model of a television across from it. It felt old, but not of Steve's time... from what little he had learned of the decades between being frozen and woken (the in-between years were less relevant to Steve than the before and after, so he really hadn't read that much about it), this looked like maybe sixties or seventies in style, with differing floral patterns on the walls, couch, and curtains over false windows.

There were also empty wrappers of assorted snack foods scattered liberally across the table, showing that Dave had eaten something - if not anything healthy - since his capture.

Dave was hiding behind the couch when Steve spotted him. Without the mask, he looked surprisingly ordinary. Fit and well-built, in a way that worked well for 'intimidating goon in a uniform and mask' that his employers had clearly preferred... but his features were plain, perhaps even mousey, and he was just not the type of person you would even so much as really notice, in a mundane setting like the gym or beach.

Steve folded his arms, carefully choosing to do so in a manner that at least partially covered - rather than drawing attention to - the new breasts, and stared the man down. Tony lurked quietly behind him.

"Start talking," Steve ordered coldly.

"How are you even hotter now?" Dave complained, "I've seen you naked, but I guess the scary authority thing is kind of a kink for me."

Steve's frown deepened, as he weighed how worth the personal disgust it might be to exercise said authority... he was fairly sure he could tip the balance from turn-on to terrifying without too much effort, so tried not to think about the former and stepped forward, glaring coldly.

"You're not in custody of any official organisations," Steve told him. "You don't have any more rights in this room than I had in your facility. If you don't tell me who you worked for and everything you know about them, you're gonna wish you'd taken that suicide pill they gave you. You might think they'll kill you if you talk, but I'll do far worse if you don't."

Dave visibly cringed, shaking slightly now. "I'm just a hired goon, I didn't sign up for this. I want to make a deal!" Steve raised one eyebrow, sceptical but cold, and Dave swiftly elaborated. "Give me some kind of sanctuary, so they can't find me, and I'll tell you everything, I swear."

Steve really had expected to need to resort to physical threats, rather than just words... this man was clearly either an abject coward or felt absolutely no loyalty for his employers. Not that either option made Steve feel any less hostile towards him; he had still chosen to work for them, and had still personally participated in torturing him. It was almost disappointing not to at least rough him up a bit in return. Of course, he knew he shouldn't be thinking such things, and certainly wouldn't do them if he didn't need to.

"Tell us who you worked for," Tony offered, "Then we'll see about making a deal for the rest."

Dave nodded to him, leaning slightly to the side so that he had a clearer line of sight of Tony, as if gravitating to the lesser hostility he saw there. Tony was right, 'good cop, bad cop' was working like a charm. "HYDRA, I worked for HYDRA."

"How are they even still a thing?" Tony asked, casual as you please.

Dave hesitated, clearly wanting that deal, but decided to answer anyway. "I dunno, nobody tells me nothin', but I do know they're infiltrating SHIELD; some of them would show up wearing SHIELD gear, like that's their day job or something. Like I said, they never told me, but if I had to guess I'd say Project Paperclip."

"Project what now?" Steve asked, glancing over his shoulder at Tony.

"Nazi defectors, especially scientists, let turncoat to come work for America, instead of facing charges alongside the officers," Tony admitted. "I'd have to do some research, see if there's any correlations with SHIELD. My dad may have helped your girlfriend found it, but he never admitted as much to me. It's a good place to start."

Steve nodded slowly.

"Okay, let's talk deal," Tony said to Dave, "You can live in my bomb shelter until we figure out how to wipe out your old bosses. You really ought to ration the food, and eat the meals not just the junk. I have no idea how long you're gonna be here, and I'm not restocking this  _ decade _ , because a normal lone human should not eat that much that fast. You will be locked in, you will tell the AI monitoring your every move anything and everything you know about HYDRA, and we'll not commit any war crimes on you."

Steve smirked darkly, eyes still on Tony. He imagined there must be air vents in this place, and the first 'war crime' that came to mind was gassing the poor bastard. He was actually quite disgusted at the thought, but he was playing the 'bad cop' here, so he decided to let himself show his amusement at Tony's way with words, rather than his disapproval of the words themselves.

Dave nodded quickly at that offer, but then asked, "Can I get cable?"

Tony's eyes narrowed. "Yes... but you're not getting a better TV to watch it on."

"Deal," Dave said quickly.

Tony nodded, and both he and Steve left the man alone.

After he had welded the door shut again, and they were on their way back to the car, Tony casually ordered, "Hey, JARVIS... try to scare our prisoner every so often. HAL quotes emphatically encouraged."

JARVIS sounded unsettlingly enthusiastic as he answered, "With pleasure, Sir."

Tony grinned almost evilly, as he glanced at Steve, "I've always wanted a Dave, just for this reason," he explained, in a way that really didn't explain anything at all.

\---

"I'm not going to claim cheeseburgers are the solution to all of life's problems," Tony said, as they sat in the queue for the drive-through, on the way back to the Tower. "I'm pretty much in agreement with Homer Simpson, that both the cause and solution to all of life's problems is alcohol... but cheeseburgers sure help me when I'm feeling miserable."

"Comfort food was never really a thing, for me," Steve observed flatly. He would have said more, but since they weren't telling Happy who he was, he kept those details to himself.

"First meal after an unpleasant experience is always special, though," Tony observed. "Tell me it wasn't the shawarma?"

"Grilled cheese," Steve answered. "Definitely better than ration packs after a military operation, mind you."

"Well, now we're having cheeseburgers," Tony retorted.

Somehow, this conversation seemed to totally change Happy's attitude, and once the food was in the car and they were driving again, he started asking Steve questions, trying to figure out what he and Tony had been referring to. It was obvious that he knew of the cheeseburger situation, which Steve was only assuming from clues in the context was a reference to Tony's first meal after the Afghanistan incident.

"Is there a reason you're keeping secrets, again, Mr Stark? This isn't another Maya situation, is it? Should I call Colonel Rhodes?" Happy asked slyly, when Tony deflected for the third time.

"Happy, I'm offended. Stevie has nothing whatsoever in common with Maya!" From the tone of denial Tony employed, Steve deduced that Maya was most likely one of Tony's exes... unfortunately, Tony quickly spotted a flaw in the statement, and corrected himself. "Except for being held hostage by a mad scientist recently, I guess."

Steve gave him a very cold, deadpan look for that.

Tony shook his head, and got back on track. "Yes, there is a very good reason, and I'll tell you and Rhodey when I know it's safe to. Not that I don't trust you boys, obviously, just the whole people who know being in danger deal, and all that."

"Am I not in danger driving you around, if you're in danger knowing?" Happy countered, his tone making it clear that he was not at all bothered by the idea of being in danger, if it was for Tony's benefit. He was angling for the information, rather than his own safety.

"They don't know I know yet, and we're hoping to keep it that way," Tony said, firmly. "They know she knows, but they don't know where she is, so that's why the covert meetings in garages, instead of taking one of the nicer cars."

Happy nodded, frowning in thought, but not pushing the subject. "Just make sure to tell Pepper  _ before _ it gets too serious, this time, okay? She doesn't need the stress."

"Yeah, I know," Tony deflated at that, folding his arms and apparently sulking, as if it was a very serious admonition.

Steve actually hadn't met Pepper, before. She was always very busy, running Tony's business for him, and only once had she even been in the residential portion of the Tower at the same time as him. He had seen her very briefly in passing, only recognising her from the file SHIELD had given him about Tony, but he hadn't had the opportunity to actually speak to her. He wasn't even sure if she'd seen him, that time. It was clear from both the SHIELD intel, and Tony's attitude when she was mentioned, that she meant a great deal to him.

Possibly the reason Tony had gone out of his way to point out Steve was a platonic friend, and probably also the only reason Happy had believed it. Tony's reputation as a womanising playboy was already in his past when he'd met Steve, but it was still proving difficult for the man to shake.

The cheeseburgers were good, but Steve was of the opinion that fast food was a quasi-luxury, unhealthy enough to only be reasonable when you really cannot afford the time to cook for yourself. Sure, Steve was not a good cook, but microwaves had mostly fixed that, these days.

He was determined to actually eat something vaguely nutritious, once they got back to the tower.

\---

When they made it back to the Tower, however, JARVIS diverted them to the penthouse, instead of Steve's floor, and Pepper was waiting there for them.

She looked the perfect picture of poise, sitting behind the imposing desk Tony kept in front of the elevator there. It was intended so Tony could intimidate visitors when the whim took him, and Pepper used it for that purpose now.

"I know this isn't what it looks like, because Bruce is a good man who would tell me the truth if it was," Pepper said, coolly. Steve was fairly sure it was an act to mess with Tony, but he didn't really know Pepper so he could be wrong.

Tony looked unimpressed, which added to Steve's theory. "Yep, you're right about that. I'd also be pretty surprised if you failed to figure out the whole truth by now," he vaguely dismissed, breezing over to where Pepper sat, leaning over and kissing her cheek in a chaste and polite manner.

"It's Avengers level, you've got another unidentified houseguest who looks unnervingly familiar... and both of them are assigned to floor eighty-six."

"That's my girl," Tony grinned broadly at her.

"Please tell me I'm wrong?" Pepper asked, her voice turning from stern 'what did you break now' to something a bit weaker and more shocked.

"Pepper, sweetheart... meet Captain America."

Steve nodded politely to her. Pepper stared at Steve for several long seconds, then glared at Tony. "What did you do?!"

"I love that you're misattributing this to me, like I'm capable of this level of genetic fuckery," Tony grumbled. "We're trying to figure out how to undo it, Pep. The fact that either we found Cap, or what happened to him- her? I don't know - is absolutely top secret, even Little Nicky doesn't get to know."

"If he heard you compare him to that movie, Tony..." Pepper began. Steve could only guess they were referring to Director Nicholas Fury, being the only 'Nick' he could think of at the moment. It did fit with the context, at least... but he had no idea what movie they were talking about.

"He'd be distracted, while we deal with the real issues," Tony countered, grinning sharply.

"Why can't we tell SHIELD?" Pepper asked, dubiously.

"Because they may be compromised." Tony looked up at Steve. "You wanna explain this, or should I?" Steve shrugged, uncomfortable with the thought of talking about it, so Tony continued. "Short version: two probably-independent sources say HYDRA's not dead and is in fact infiltrating SHIELD. This could be a plot to screw with SHIELD, or it could be true. We're investigating, but until then all SHIELD personnel are suspect."

"We once let Natasha Romanoff into this building, Tony," Pepper pointed out. "She's like a vampire; one invite and she'll never be completely locked out."

"I know, I know," Tony sighed, "We're working on it."

Pepper took a deep breath, recovering what little composure she had lost. "Okay. I'll tell legal to run the Bob protocol whenever Fury's people call."

"Bob protocol?" Steve asked, confused yet again.

"Simpsons reference," Tony shrugged vaguely.

Pepper, on the other hand, gave a far more enlightening answer. "As Tony said, it's a reference to an episode of the Simpsons... in which the villain - Sideshow Bob - wanted to kill Bart and asked if he had any last requests. Bart told Bob he had the most beautiful singing voice, and requested a rendition of the full score of the HMS Pinafore. By the time Bob was done singing, the police had found him. Essentially, it's Tony's pet codename for a filibuster, distraction, and general time-wasting, explicitly not letting them get what they want, but making them feel appreciated."

"Lawyers are made for that sort of thing," Tony observed, grinning.

Pepper gave Tony a look. It was filled with meaning that Steve couldn't even begin to comprehend, and then she was stepping out from behind the desk, and towards Steve. Her body-language clearly said Steve should follow her as she swept past him and towards the elevator. Steve glanced to Tony, unsure of the context - it really looked like Tony had just been summarily dismissed in his own Tower, but he didn't want to assume as much.

Tony, however, just shrugged and made a shooing motion... so  Steve followed Pepper.

\---


	11. Chapter 11

\---

"How long ago did this happen?" Pepper asked curtly, as they stepped off the elevator on Steve's own floor.

"Uh, I'm not sure," Steve admitted. "It's been just over twenty-four hours since I woke up free from the, uh, the people who did this to me." Just because all evidence pointed to HYDRA didn't mean he liked to admit they were behind this. He was still struggling to accept the idea that he might not have wiped them all out when he defeated Schmidt. "I don't know how long I was unconscious for, between the transformation and then."

Had it really only been twenty-four hours? He knew academically that it had, but it felt like so much longer. There was so much going on, from James-who-might-be-Bucky to HYDRA-infiltrating-SHIELD... he'd barely had time to stop and think about his own situation.

"Four days," James answered, looking up at the pair of them. He had been sitting quietly at the table, in the shared kitchen area. "They had a file on you," he explained, nodding to Steve, when they both stared at him. "I saw it said; 'unexpected results from alien weapon' and 'reassign to breeding program', both dated four days ago, now. Must have taken them three days to get us both in the same facility."

"There's a file?" Steve asked, frowning.

James stood up and walked off into his room... both Steve and Pepper waited, and were right to assume he had gone to retrieve said file, as he reemerged a moment later holding a manilla envelope, which he handed over to Steve.

"You're sure you want to read that?" Pepper asked carefully, as Steve opened the file.

"Yes," Steve said flatly. He needed to know.

The first dozen pages were all about blood tests, which were summarised as if the scientist's boss was all but completely stupid, and possibly a bit illiterate. The summary seemed to be that the serum had altered his genetic code, turning him into ' _ the perfect specimen of a human man, at peak physical health and fitness _ ', but been burned up in the process, so they couldn't reverse engineer it.

Then there were the records labelled 'discipline', with the note; ' _ Physical torture just makes the subject more determined to resist, only submitting through total unconsciousness or exhaustion which, given his enhanced physiology, is not easy to achieve. Chemical control is limited at best, dosages that would kill a normal man will only sedate this one for an hour at most. Interestingly, he seems to develop no dependency, suffering none of the anticipated withdrawal from long-term use. Sedation is viable but costly; strongly recommend other means of coercion _ '.

Kind of useful to know, and probably something he should mention to Bruce and any future medics working with him, that he wouldn't get addicted to any pain-killers... he'd just require a horrifyingly high dose to get any value out of them in the first place. That was something SHIELD's doctors had been concerned about, when he'd first woken up from the ice... the possibility of him getting seriously injured and/or requiring some form of surgery, and not being able to medicate him properly.

Of course, HYDRA just had to be repulsive.

A few pages further, and he saw the notes James had commented on... alongside which were a couple of other disgusting remarks; ' _ I know the other women died in the second trimester, but maybe it takes a super-soldier to survive breeding with a super-soldier _ ' and ' _ may be a more effective form of torture to use more direct methods here, rather than the recommended artificial insemination; make sure she wakes up before letting the Asset play with her _ '.

Nothing in this file made for pleasant reading, but that last part was just pure evil.

It did, however, suggest they had attempted to use James as breeding stock before. Combined with the fact of that 'standing order', it was abundantly clear that HYDRA had absolutely no boundaries on that front. Someone had to have abused James, and been caught by one of his - what, word would they use? Keeper? Handler? Master? - who just happened to disapprove. Most likely not because it was immoral, but because they thought their weapon was too valuable a tool to allow the lowly minions to 'play with'.

Clearly the scientist who had been experimenting on Steve hadn't known about that rule, even though he was aware of the 'breeding program', likely presuming that made it okay from their warped perspective... and that one moment of ignorance was literally the only thing that had saved them both from HYDRA's clutches.

He felt sick at the very idea of how close a call that had been.

The notes in this file implied said the 'breeding program' had failed. That was, at least, one piece of good news. He really didn't like the idea of HYDRA being free to raise children as slave-soldiers like that.

Steve only just noticed, after what felt like an eternity of thought on the horrors held within this file, that Pepper and James were still watching him. Pepper was trying not to look curious, but it was obvious she valued knowledge enough to want to ask, even if she knew the answer couldn't be good. Meanwhile, James' expression was more worried, as though he expected Steve to lash out at any moment.

Steve took a deep breath, and set the file aside. He would show it to Bruce later. After carefully warning him, so it didn't bring out the Hulk again.

"Only thing I didn't already at least guess at, in that file, might actually be good news," he managed to say, though the poor attempt at a flippant tone fell very flat. Pepper arched one eyebrow questioningly, while James just looked utterly shocked. Steve focused on him first. "Have I mentioned how grateful I am to you, for getting me out of there? Because I'm fairly sure I could repeat it until the end of time and not have said it enough."

James' lips twitched ever so slightly in the direction of a smirk at the turn of phrase, but he still looked uncertain.

"No one told me what happened," Pepper said softly, only a hint of the horror and concern written clearly on her face making it into her voice, and Steve realised she must have picked up on the bit about a 'breeding program'. It was really hard to pretend that didn't nearly happen when people kept talking about it.

"HYDRA," Steve said, through gritted teeth. "Wanted more super soldiers. Both James' word and Bruce's medical exams say nothing happened."

James nodded slightly, still looking tense. Wary. In spite of Steve's assurances, the look on his face gave the impression he expected them to hurt him if he didn't give the right answers, but the open defiance he had shown before, against those he said he'd been enslaved by, was still clear in almost every aspect of his body-language.

"James?" Pepper asked.

He nodded.

"I'm Pepper Potts," she said politely.

Steve felt sheepish for all of a second, for not properly introducing them, but then James spoke up again. "I don't want to go back."

"Back?" she asked, frowning. It wasn't confusion, it looked more like anger at HYDRA, as she had clearly pieced together the situation here.

"I was property of HYDRA," he said. "I don't want to be." The as-yet-unspoken fact he was also a super-soldier was clear as day to Pepper's keen observation skills, but she didn't ask. Most likely, she didn't need to.

Instead, she nodded. "Well, then this is probably the safest place for you." She looked up to the ceiling, and asked, "JARVIS, has Tony issued blackout protocol yet?"

"No, he has not, Ma'am," JARVIS answered curtly.

"I'm sorry, James, I don't know your surname?" Pepper asked. It seemed like a non-sequitur.

"I don't either," he answered.

"JARVIS?" Pepper asked, which only seemed stranger to Steve.

"I have catalogued him as 'James, refugee from HYDRA', Ma'am."

Pepper nodded curtly. "We'll have to change that, but for now... initiate blackout protocol on floor eighty-six, and residents Steve Rogers and James, refugee from HYDRA, effective immediately, to be revoked only under Theta level access codes from either myself or Tony."

And now it made sense; it seemed she needed to use some formal form of identification, to issue JARVIS with an order like that. "Acknowledged, initiating blackout protocol."

"What's that do?" Steve asked warily, having noticed that James looked uneasy, as if the idea of having some sort of protocol on him was threatening.

"It's an extra level of security, so anyone attempting to hack our surveillance footage won't find you," Pepper answered amicably enough. There was obviously a lot more to it, Steve had a vague idea of how paranoid Tony was, but this was the summary Pepper was prepared to admit in the presence of an unknown like James.

James nodded slowly, seeming to relax only slightly.

But then Pepper turned her attention on Steve. "Four days, only one of those awake?" she clarified, her tone suddenly all business. Steve nodded. Pepper's gaze fell on a small pile of boxes in the corner, which hadn't been there before. "I see you've got clothing sorted out, JARVIS usually has good taste. If there's anything else you need help with, feel free to ask me. I used to be Tony's personal assistant, before I took over the company; there is no humiliation or dreadful secret you could possibly have that would shock me. I can promise you, Tony is the great innovator in that field."

Steve's lip twitched faintly. The very idea of talking about this with a woman like Pepper was intimidating, but she also had a point. "I really don't know where to start, and we're still hoping this is only temporary."

She nodded, understanding in the gesture. "Of course." She made her way over to the pile of boxes, and picked up a piece of paper from the top, reading it quickly. "Seems thorough, JARVIS even gave you the easy-mode bras."

"The Captain requested such, Ma'am," JARVIS observed. Steve glared at the ceiling, suddenly mortally embarrassed at the realisation that not only was Pepper analysing his adjustment to this, but James was still listening as well.

"No heels, that's good," Pepper murmured softly. Then she set the paper down. "This all seems sensible," she told him. "Have you ever been ill, since the serum?" she asked suddenly. "I'm not entirely clear on how it affects your immune system."

"Why is that relevant?" Steve asked dubiously, before shaking his head and answering. "No, I've not even caught a cold since the serum, and there was one winter on the front where  _ everyone _ else did."

"Okay, don't need to go into the cranberry juice debate," Pepper said, more to herself than him. At his confused frown, however, she deigned to explain, "There's a heated debate over whether it's a life-saver or a placebo, and I tend to fall on the 'it can't hurt' side of the spectrum."

"I have  _ no _ idea what you're talking about," Steve muttered.

Pepper just shrugged. "Apparently it's not relevant, here," she clarified. "JARVIS always keeps a supply of feminine hygiene products in the Tower; I'll make sure you have access to them, and if you need any advice I'm happy to help. We can hope to restore you before that becomes an issue, but it's better to be prepared. I'm going to make an educated guess, based on human biology and simple logic - and I could be wildly wrong, because gender reassignment via what I presume was some sort of alien magitech is a new one for me - but you've likely got at least two weeks before we need to worry about that."

Steve ran his hands over his face. He had really been trying not to think about that. It had been a taboo subject in his time, something women dealt with for themselves. Men didn't want to know, women didn't want to share, it had seemed perfectly reasonable to be blissfully ignorant of the details at the time. Even now, they were dancing around the subject, rather than naming it.

Two weeks? Could they figure this out in two weeks? The odds weren't great, but he had beaten worse odds.

He decided to voice the least offensive of the thoughts to cross his mind, "I guess it's good to know we've got a plan for that, now let's hope we don't need to use it."

Pepper's lip twitched slightly. "Tell me where men have it worse?" she asked, amusement merged with some genuine thoughtfulness and curiosity.

"All else being equal, absent rules of a 'fair fight', men are much easier to incapacitate in close combat," Bucky muttered.

James. It was James.

Pepper chuckled, but kept her gaze on Steve, who could now feel himself blushing as possible answers crossed his mind. None of them were correct answers, but all of them were embarrassing bodily functions.

"I'll be polite, and call it an acquired tolerance," she told him. "Do you have a preference for pronouns?"

He really hadn't thought about that. Tony has used feminine pronouns to refer to him, when they'd been talking to Happy, and he could kind of tolerate it, but still. It felt strange to care about such a small detail, but he realised he did. "Yeah, um... male, I guess. It's not a big deal, I don't mind being called 'she' or 'her' if we're hiding my real identity, just feels strange to hear."

Pepper nodded simply. "Of course." She smiled warmly at him. It was strangely reassuring. "If you need anything, tell JARVIS, and he'll let me know. I have quite a busy schedule, with my work at Stark Industries, but I can make the time for this."

"Thanks," he said, finding himself smiling back at her, in spite of his discomfort.

As soon as she was gone, he noticed James staring at him. He was resting his chin on his hand, elbow propped up on the kitchen table he sat at.

"You okay?" Steve asked.

James shrugged vaguely. "Trying to picture you as a man. Can't quite manage it."

That made Steve feel very apprehensive. What if this really was Bucky? Would he recognise Steve's real face? Hope flared for a moment, as he answered, "I'm pretty sure JARVIS has some images of me, from before this."

There was a long pause, in which it felt like James was waiting - he even seemed to glance at the ceiling, where everyone liked to imagine JARVIS lived. "Can I see?" he asked, when he realised JARVIS wasn't going to volunteer that information.

\---


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for discussion of gender dysphoria, rape... and something that probably looks like ableism, but I'm not sure if it counts in context...? 
> 
> Additional details in the end notes.

\---

"JARVIS?" Steve prompted. "Can you show some images of me from before? Some of the proper publicity shoots, I don't trust Tony not to have saved something humiliating, just because he can."

"My apologies, Captain, but I am under orders not to give our guest any further information regarding you. It has been deemed an admittedly unlikely, yet possible, scenario that he is manipulating you, and while we would like to believe this is not the case precautions have been taken."

Steve deflated, as the opportunity was shattered... but James nodded as if he fully understood, even going so far as to say, "That makes sense. You have no reason to trust me, I could be a collaborator with those who held you prisoner. I  _ do _ know how to manipulate people." Which kind of made sense, if HYDRA had been using him as an assassin. Sometimes the only way to get close enough would have to be through subterfuge and infiltration.

Steve glared at him for that. "I really can't see what they'd stand to gain from that," he said firmly. "They had me prisoner, why let me go? Just because we haven't ruled out the possibility, doesn't mean we believe it."

"So Tony's the smart one, then," James said, a hint of Bucky's sly, dark humour in his tone.

Steve couldn't help himself, a bark of a laugh escaped as he heard those words. It was true, and yet it couldn't be allowed to be in this specific context.

It didn't even matter all that much if this was Bucky or not - of course it mattered, but not to the fact that Steve needed to believe that this man was on their side. That he never really wanted to serve HYDRA, and that they would pay for forcing it upon him. A logical part of his mind  _ knew _ that this could be exactly the point of the sort of manipulation they were discussing, but if so perhaps they'd already won?

But at least if it was all a lie, then HYDRA wouldn't really have been a part of it.

He still chose to believe it was true.

And worse, he realised that he desperately wanted to believe that this really was Bucky.

\---

There was no reprieve. No opportunity to relax.

If they weren't dealing with the HYDRA situation, Steve was worried about James - whose behaviour was erratic at best, seeming to randomly switch between quiet and almost eerily calm, dark and brooding, or casual as you please, with no recognisable provocation.

And now that James had left him alone, he was left to think about the results of what HYDRA had done to himself.

He went to the bedroom, and laid down on top of the covers, just trying to switch his mind off for a moment. It wasn't even lunch time, but he felt exhausted. The morning's visit to Tony's bomb-shelter-turned-holding-cell had been tense, and the lack of sleep last night didn't help. Just like last night, the extra weight on his chest meant that he had trouble finding a comfortable position.

And when he closed his eyes, the memory of that nightmare came back to haunt him.

Well, trying to rest was a bad idea. Doubly so with this stupid bra on.

Feeling irritable at the whole situation, he got up and stalked back into the room where the pile of boxes had been. The new clothes, and 'easy-mode' bras Pepper had mentioned.

If he couldn't ignore it, he may as well try to adapt to it.

He found the bras in the fourth box he opened... after a couple shirts, and a pair of trousers that looked like they might be a bit tight. Pepper's taste in clothing really was high-end, but it was so in a durable and well-made manner, and he knew full well, from experience, that Tony would refuse any offers of reimbursement, whether Steve used the new clothes or not. Best not to waste them. So he took what he had opened so far, and returned to his bedroom.

A few minutes later, Steve stood in front of a full-length mirror, wearing only those new trousers and the first sports-bra he had grabbed. They were both made of strong, slightly stretchy, material. The trousers were a dark grey, and hugged his hips in a way that was a bit too flattering, but certainly comfortable... and flexible; he could fight in these if he had to. While he  _ could _ fight in jeans, the material was less forgiving and could cause chafing - albeit less so since the sex-change, as he had noticed during the sparring session this morning. These new trousers still felt like they would be far better for that sort of movement.

The bra was white, and felt like the literal opposite of the other one he had at first been obliged to wear. Just pulled over his head like a t-shirt, and made of similarly sturdy and comfortable fabric, which stretched in just the right way to support and accommodate this body... where apparently the other one had bits of  _ metal _ in it, which he was sure he'd felt and hated.

Together, they looked  _ too _ good on him.

While he was half too polite and half too shy to act on the natural impulses of his libido, when he saw a beautiful woman, that didn't mean he didn't think those things... and while the woman he saw in the mirror now wasn't exactly his type, she was still gorgeous. With longer hair styled right, red lips, and a short skirt and heels... she would objectively beat out almost any pin-up model he'd ever seen.

But she wasn't him. Not really.

He couldn't imagine himself wearing a skirt or makeup, like that, even though he could picture it on this image if she had existed outside himself.

He remembered, suddenly, the girls on the USO tour. The way they acted like the hair and makeup was a full-time chore. He'd been conflicted at the time, knowing they were lovely anyway, and dolling themselves up made them look spectacular... but feeling bad for them, having to go to all that effort when all he'd been expected to do was put on the costume, memorise a corny speech, and show off his enhanced strength.

For a brief moment, he pictured the woman in the mirror in one of those USO show outfits, and couldn't help but snort with laughter. That thought was so very wrong.

Then, rather suddenly, he wondered if there was any way to hide these breasts? He placed his hands over them, pushing inwards, but they didn't really move the way he wanted.

A soft chiming sound echoed through the room, and a moment later JARVIS spoke up tentatively. "I hope I'm not intruding, Captain, but am I correct in assuming that you are contemplating methods of concealing your altered figure?"

"Yeah," Steve admitted, dropping his hands to his sides and staring at the mirror, still.

"There are options available, and I shall send some reference material to your StarkPad."

Steve sighed, resigned to the lack of privacy that came with not only living in Stark's Tower, but also having friends who cared too much to let him brood on his problems instead of solving them. Tony, Bruce, JARVIS and Pepper had all offered their help and advice. Even James had made a few useful comments, in spite of the fact he really must have bigger things to worry about. "Thanks, JARVIS."

It felt nice to have friends like that, even if contemplating the nature of it reminded him that it was so recently that he had lost everything... part of him really felt like he didn't deserve this sort of support, so soon after losing everyone he had ever known.

He pulled on one of the two shirts he had found. A nice button-up number in very pale blue. The neckline was lower than he was used to; not the sort of shirt you could wear a tie with... but at least it wasn't low enough to flash cleavage, so he would tolerate it.

He ran his fingers through his hair; it had grown out a bit during his captivity, well past the point he would normally cut it. It wasn't quite to his shoulders yet, too short to tie back, but long enough to get in his eyes if it fell the wrong way. It was too short for a woman, in his opinion, and he felt like it would be wrong to actually cut it. There were a lot of feminine ideals he had grown up knowing to be standard, which both he didn't want to do and twenty-first century society allowed women to ignore. Longer hair was the first one he had noticed that seemed to fall only into the latter category. He decided to leave it be for now.

With a sigh, he decided to brave the common floor of the Tower. He didn't often succumb to caffeine as a crutch for exhaustion, but right now he felt the need to... and someone to talk to, to distract him from his own mind, would be welcome, too.

\---

When he arrived on the common floor, he found Bruce, Tony, and Pepper all there, sharing a lunch that appeared to actually involve salad (unlike anything Tony would choose for himself).

Pepper waved him over to join them, while Tony's eyes ran over Steve's new clothes. "Did I buy that? It's so  _ tame _ ."

"I'd offer to pay you back, but you've refused for much more expensive things," Steve retorted sharply. "You do realise I got sixty-eight years of army back-pay,  _ and _ some tiny percentage of the merchandising profits from my likeness. I wouldn't have casually matched you on a thousand dollar cash bet if I couldn't cover it, Tony."

Pepper smiled broadly at that, and Bruce was clearly fighting back the urge to laugh, while Tony appeared utterly dumbstruck. It took almost an entire minute for him to respond to that. "Well colour me impressed. How did you wrangle merchandising rights? That shit is  _ hard _ . Neither Rhodey nor I get any damned thing for the War Machine merch; it all goes to the Air Force."

"I thought MIA soldiers only got paid up until they were declared dead?" Pepper added, but the faint smirk appearing through her friendly smile clearly said she expected a good, entertaining answer to explain it.

"Well, it seemed nobody wanted to argue with me when I was signing the contracts for the propaganda side of things - at the time, I was agreeing to be their personal dancing monkey, and my performance did rake in huge amounts of funding for the war effort. And apparently, nobody was willing to declare me dead either, in spite of the usual time limits, because several people placed in charge of the decision over the years kept thinking it would be bad for their public image to do so without a body."

Tony nodded vaguely, as if that all made sense, but was still a bit strange. He was most likely used to clawing for every foothold on the financial latter. Just because Howard had handed him an empire didn't mean he could relax about it: big business was - so Steve had heard - incredibly cutthroat, and people were always looking to drag you down.

After a moment, Tony seemed to gather his thoughts, and asked casually, "So how're you settling in?"

"Trouble sleeping, but I don't think it's anything to do with the accommodations," Steve admitted. "JARVIS has been extremely helpful. Except for the part where you ordered him not to let me find out if James really is Bucky or not."

Tony did look a bit sheepish at that. "It's a precaution, and the odds of him recognising you when he doesn't even know who he is are infinitesimal, even if he  _ is _ who he looks like."

"Have you read the pamphlets, yet?" Bruce asked.

"You won't like what I did with them," Steve answered. Which was true, he had thrown them in the bin... but wording it vaguely seemed fitting, given he had previously been vague about actually doing something horrible with the ones Fury had given him last year.

Bruce rolled his eyes.

"You should at least read the one about PTSD, maybe see a therapist or something," Tony said, too-casually. "Helped me, after the whole Afghanistan thing."

Steve frowned slightly, then looked at Tony thoughtfully. "What's the worst illness you've ever had, unrelated to the arc reactor?"

Tony scowled at that apparent non-sequitur, and even Bruce looked a little bit confused by it. But after a moment's thought, Tony shrugged. "Junior year at MIT. Three weeks bedridden with stomach flu and the regular flu at the same time. That was a bitch."

"How'd that make you feel?" Steve asked.

Tony gave him a weak glare for the use of the obviously therapist-y turn of phrase. But Steve's expression was serious, not mocking, so he shrugged, and answered. "Like hell," he admitted. "Honestly, the palladium poisoning from the arc reactor had nothing on those three weeks. I could barely move, I was totally reliant on Rhodey's mom chicken soup, and at one point I seriously thought I was dying."

"I meant emotionally," Steve said softly, his tone becoming gentler and kinder, as he sincerely empathised with what Tony had just described.

Tony actually had to think about that. It had been a long time ago, from his perspective. "Frustrated, I guess," he answered, still clearly having no idea where this was going. "Helpless, and angry at that."

Steve nodded slowly. "How much do you know about me, before the serum?"

Tony shrugged. "Almost nothing. There's a before and after picture my dad liked to show off, but other than the fact you were short and skinny, I got nothing."

"I was always sick," Steve explained carefully keeping his tone steady; soft yet serious at the same time. "Any time a bug was going round; if everyone else got a bit of a sniffle for two days, I was completely out of it for two weeks. I also had asthma, and heart problems, as well. I was always tired; could barely run the length of myself before I was out of breath. I spent the first twenty-one years of my life at war with my own body. Pain's an old friend, to me. I was always angry, like you just said; at myself, at my body, at God. The only time I ever deliberately hurt anyone I cared about was the time Bucky gave me the worst flu of the year, by actually coughing right on me, and I broke his nose for it. We were ten at the time. At least with this, where the pain was HYDRA's fault, I've got someone to blame - an enemy to fight - that makes it easier for me to manage."

Tony glanced at Bruce, to see a faintly amused glint in his eyes, and he was nodding as if agreeing with that sentiment. "I guess that makes sense," Tony admitted. "Those three weeks I was seriously ill, I'd have  _ loved _ to have had a solid cause of it that I could attack... like the way I get to fight terrorist cells and invading aliens, now."

Steve smiled faintly at that. Tony understood. "I saw a SHIELD therapist, after I woke up from the ice," he admitted. "She said I have excellent coping mechanisms."

"I was beginning to feel sympathy - maybe even empathy - for the whole sick kid deal, but now I'm starting to get jealous, again," Tony grumbled. "I have  _ dreadful _ coping mechanisms." As if to emphasise his point, Tony raised his glass of whiskey in Steve's general direction.

Steve chuckled at that, and then turned to Bruce. "I read the other pamphlet, the one about gender dysphoria. I don't think it fits me."

"Oh?" Bruce asked, surprised.

"It had nothing to do with gender, but I know what it feels like to hate my body. I don't hate this," Steve explained, with a vague gesture downwards. "It's different, unfamiliar, and honestly pretty weird... and I do  _ not _ appreciate the lecherous stares at my chest, but otherwise..." He shrugged. "I've had worse, with - as Tony so tastefully described it - the 'sick kid deal'."

Tony chuckled. "I don't think I'd be too bothered by some fancy alien-ray-gun sex-change thing, either, to be honest. Unlike you, though, I'd feel the need to experiment."

Steve gave him a look, one eyebrow raised, both disapproving and amused at the same time. "Who says I haven't?"

Bruce actually did a spit-take with his mouthful of tea. Tony looked deeply disbelieving. It really depended on how one defined 'experiment'. It did surprise Steve to hear Tony suggest he would be fine with the obvious insinuation that he had made - actually having sex in a female form, presumably with a man. In spite of SHIELD's efforts to assure him that homosexuality was accepted as normal these days (by most reasonable people), this was the first hint of an admission of such tendencies he had yet heard, however obtuse or joking.

Tony's gobsmacked expression eventually morphed into something more mutinous. "Well, not like JARVIS would tell me, given the privacy protocols," he grumbled, arms folding as though sulking.

"Tony, it's not polite to make such insinuations, given the, ah, circumstances," Bruce pointed out.

Pepper gave Bruce a sideways look, then turned her attention thoughtfully to Steve... who had cringed at the reminder of said circumstances.

"What?" Tony asked, confused. "I know what you're not saying, Brucie, but I don't exactly understand it. I mean, if I were in Cap's position here, I'd want to purge the idea of the threat with something more fun. Like how I purge the memory of waterboarding with booze... and occasionally exploding people when I find out they were tangentially involved."

"Tony has a point," Pepper put in. "Everyone's reaction is different, I've heard of responses to rape ranging from avoiding all thoughts of sex, to hiring a BDSM practitioner to recreate the scenario so the victim can take control and, as Tony implied, overwrite the bad experience. It depends on the individual."

Steve might not know what 'BDSM' meant, but he heard 'hiring' and 'recreate the scenario', and inferred it to mean some kind of prostitution. Which he had  _ not _ known was an acceptable thing in this time. He wouldn't assume, but that sure was what it sounded like.

"Steve, how do you feel about it?" Pepper continued swiftly and efficiently. "It would be helpful to know if there's something you'd rather we avoid discussing in your presence?"

\--- ****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Steve's opinion that he doesn't have gender dysphoria is not intended in any way to discredit those who do; he sat down and read a pamphlet that told him it's not just the fact one's gender identity is different to their physical form, but experiencing distress as a result of that difference. Everyone's experience is different, and Steve's situation is unique; he's coping with it in his own way, and has firmly convinced himself that any distress he's feeling right now is at HYDRA continuing to exist. That, and he genuinely believes this strong healthy female body is much better than the weak sick male body he had pre-serum, even though he definitely does still identify as male. Besides, he's still hoping it's only temporary, and an undesirable situation being temporary can really help you power through it without facing the issues you might have if it became permanent. 
> 
> And another thing: I, the author, am writing this from the perspective of being weak and sick. I identify really closely with Cap's backstory, because I've had to fight past my illness to be able to do any of the things I wanted to do... and just like pre-serum Cap, my illnesses are 'invisible', so everyone just sees a short skinny person, and not what I have to work through just to come across as that much. And that "if everyone else got a bit of a sniffle for two days, I was completely out of it for two weeks" line? THAT IS ME. So yeah, it probably sounds a bit ableist, but I really do feel like I'm at war with my own body sometimes, so I'm using that experience to inform my writing.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for discussions of rape (again)... also, self-harm and reference to past brainwashing.

\---

_ "Steve, how do you feel about it?" Pepper continued swiftly and efficiently. "It would be helpful to know if there's something you'd rather we avoid discussing in your presence?" _

He actually had to think about it.

Even though he hadn't actually been raped, he was still horrified at how close it had been. The threat had been real, and he clearly needed to figure out how to deal with that.

But when he did answer, it felt perfectly obvious. "I don't think avoiding the subject is going to help any," he admitted. Then he remembered the file, and glanced at Bruce. "Speaking of which, Buck-  _ James _ stole a file they had on me. It's got some useful medical information in it, but it's also full of the scientist's personal opinions, which might make  _ you _ want to smash things, nevermind the Hulk."

Bruce nodded, sombre and serious. Tony, on the other hand... "See, there's a Freudian slip if ever I've seen one. You need to deal with the fact he's probably a clone or - what did Doctor Who call it? Spatial genetic multiplicity?"

"What now?" Steve asked, frowning.

"He means like Samuel Jackson and Director Fury," Bruce explained.

"Or that guy who played the elf leader in Lord of the Rings," Tony added irreverently, unintentionally dragging Steve's mind back to the nightmare again.

Bruce rolled his eyes at Tony's attitude, seeming not to notice Steve's reaction, and elaborated. "The Doctor Who theory is; there's only so many faces in the universe, sooner or later you'll start seeing patterns. It was a good excuse for a long-running TV show to reuse the same actors for different characters, but real life is often even stranger than fiction."

Steve sighed, perhaps a bit dramatically. "We haven't proved he's  _ not _ Bucky, yet, either," he observed, slightly resentful of their assumption. "I know the odds, and I'm not going to just assume it  _ is  _ him... but it could be."

Tony scowled, but then shrugged and changed the subject, essentially conceding the point. "Well, if you really want to pay me back for the clothes, you can... but my therapist told me, my generosity is very closely tied to my ego."

Steve felt a sudden sense of tension in the air, mostly emanating from Pepper, but also a little bit from Bruce. He would have thought Tony's ego was expansive and untouchable, but if their reactions to his words were any indication he was way off base... so he decided to hedge his bets, here.

"Well, I was raised to be frugal, so getting someone else to pay for my accommodations would be a pretty smart move... on the other hand, I was also raised not to accept charity, so-"

"Pfft," Tony interrupted with a dismissive wave of his hand. "It's not charity among friends."

Steve smiled. He'd really hoped Tony would say something like that. "I'd like to read it that way, too. But you should also know that those words mean a lot more than the money."

Tony actually blushed a bit at that, while Pepper smiled warmly. "Smooth," Bruce muttered under his breath.

"Well that settles it," Pepper declared. "Steve can stay." As if she had been unsure until now if she could really trust him around Tony's feelings. Steve doubted that was really the case, her tone now suggested good-natured ribbing more than anything else.

It still made him feel welcome. Something he was beginning to realise he had never felt around SHIELD.

\---

The afternoon passed surprisingly quickly, compared to the previous twenty-four hours. It was filled with idle chit chat about nothing important, and a couple of movies. Tony, being his usual irreverent self, picked out  _ Mrs Doubtfire _ purely to mess with Steve.

Bruce countered with Disney's  _ Aladdin _ , after a shared evening meal which they invited James to join.

As the credits for the cartoon began to roll, Tony demanded loudly, "Who the hell is Ursula Smith, and why is she friending me on Facebook?"

Pepper's eyes narrowed, as she began furiously typing on her laptop computer, but Steve answered, "That's me. I created the account yesterday, to pass the time before we met up. The Internet makes stalking people really easy."

"Why the name?" Bruce asked dubiously.

"We just watched a Disney movie, you tell me," Steve said with a bitter smirk. After a conversation about the  _ Snow White _ movie that Steve had seen in the cinema decades ago, Bruce's fondness for the more recent 'classic' Disney cartoons had introduced him to  _ The Little Mermaid _ (among others) months ago.

Silence reigned for a long few seconds, as they all clearly got the reference but didn't understand. "I concur on the 'why'?" Tony declared, eventually.

"I just thought to myself, 'what is the absolute last thing HYDRA would expect me to do in this situation'," Steve answered simply. "Besides, villain of the story or not, she had a catchy song," he added, causing shocked and startled laughter from three of the four of them. James just frowned in confusion, clearly not knowing the movie they were discussing.

"Is that-" Tony began, staring at his phone in confusion. "Did you  _ mean _ for your profile pic to be Jessica Rabbit?"

Steve didn't know who the pretty red-haired cartoon character he'd chosen was supposed to be, only that she was clearly a bombshell and that was the point. "Depends who Jessica Rabbit is," he answered warily.

"Any man who ever had a crush on a cartoon character can count her among his fantasies," Pepper answered. "And some women, too."

"Then I did what I intended, when I created this alias," Steve said with a firm nod.

"Are you friending  _ all _ of SHIELD?" Tony asked, abject shock and awe in his voice.

"Yes. I guess the Internet stalking thing works both ways. Good to know."

"Tell me why that's good?" Bruce asked.

"I'm going to flirt with them," Steve declared, before quickly amending, "On Facebook, not in person. And they're going to be easily able to find some suspicious interests, which might seem attractive to HYDRA's type."

Now they were all gaping at him in varying degrees of horror. Except Pepper, who was still working on her computer, and spoke up now with an impressed tone, "You weren't kidding about the suspicious interests, were you?"

Tony peered over her shoulder, and spluttered. "I didn't know that was even a thing!" he declared, suitably revolted given what he was probably looking at.

"Tony, I'd appreciate it if, in a couple of days, you publicly unfriend 'Ursula', and denounce her as the type of woman who only wants men for their power."

"Oh my God," Tony muttered in awe, "Captain America is gonna catfish HYDRA. I'm not sure if I should be impressed or horrified."

"It can be both," Bruce said weakly. "For me, it's both."

Pepper just nodded in agreement.

"It's a shame we can't trust Nat yet," Steve added thoughtfully. " No one outside this room - except your friend Happy - would  recognise my voice, like this, so theoretically I could speak to anyone who shows an interest; a real voice would help sell the lie... but I don't know how to do that sultry tone the femme fatales in the movies do."

This time, while he could have done it he certainly didn't intend to; he wasn't even remotely serious, but rather just trying to see if he could push their disbelief too far. The fact none of them had any response seemed to prove he had achieved that goal.

He allowed his amusement to show on his face, now, and the tension broke as Pepper burst out laughing first.

"I don't know what 'catfish' have to do with it," Steve continued, "But this is plan C."

"What were A and B?" Bruce dared to ask.

"Plan A is to get and follow any leads we can on HYDRA, from Dave and James. Plan B is to ask Thor if he knows or can find out anything about the alien device that did this to me. Plan D is to figure out how to live as a woman, longer term. Plan E is to start attacking things that look vaguely HYDRA-shaped, if and only if we fail to draw them out any other way. I don't like plan E, so I came up with Plan C."

"That is scary-logical," Tony muttered. "They don't call you a master tactician for nothing, huh?"

Steve smiled weakly, over his phone, at the four of them. "Feel free to add to the list."

\---

The Asset wasn't quite sure what to make of its new situation.

Its very existence had, according to its memory, always been fear, anger and hatred. One of its handlers had liked to use those three words that way - found it funny somehow - but it was still accurate.

It had always hated its handlers, obeying only through fear and force. No one had seemed to find that wrong, nor had they ever tried to correct that thought pattern the way they so emphatically corrected others. So long as it obeyed, they hadn't cared that it hated them.

Now, the Asset was surrounded by people who did not hate... or at least didn't hate the Asset itself. It had no memory of a handler expressing kindness, such as Steve showed it, nor of engineers treating it gently as Bruce had done. It was common for the Asset to forget, to operate on ingrained instincts caused by conditioning, but still it was quite sure that, even if it could remember, it wouldn't find such memories.

This conflicted with its expectation of the 'world beyond HYDRA'. It had been trained to be neutral or cold when infiltrating or going undercover, keep its head down and pass unnoticed and uncared for; that this was the way to appear non-threatening. An absence of violence from civilians was to be expected (but never assumed)... this sort of kindness was completely alien.

It was also quite sure that it hadn't been fed this well by HYDRA. Food, it was sure, wasn't supposed to have such... flavours. The Asset had found the two meals the previous day far more palatable than it had expected, and then it had actually  _ liked _ the bagels and coffee that Bruce had brought for both the Asset and Steve to eat that morning... and the pasta and sauce that it had been invited to share with the four agents it had seen here so far.

Sharing food was also wrong to its mind. Handlers shared food with each other, but never with the Asset. It couldn't quite recall what it had been fed before, but it was sure it was only once a day, and quite bland if not actively unpleasant.

It had anticipated punishment for concealing information, when it forgot to hand over the file, but both the agents present at the time had completely overlooked the failure, instead taking time to assure the Asset it was safe from HYDRA here.

No one here scolded or punished the Asset for speaking out of turn, for holding an opinion. Even for asking questions. The Asset had even gone so far as to test those limits by laughing at Steve, earlier, and earned only a mildly insulted look for it. The kindness didn't fade, in fact Steve retaliated in kind, by making a joke later in the evening, when they were eating dinner, which caused the other three agents to laugh as well.

It felt... nice.

The Asset was beginning to realise that it was possible  _ not _ to hate. No one it had met in this building had done anything to warrant its hatred. In fact, it found it liked them, each in their own way.   
  
Tony's words may be sharp, but his work was efficient, and he declined all opportunities to be cruel. As had Bruce; both agents had serviced the Asset, mechanically or medically, without inflicting any of the anticipated pain or damage. The Asset was sure that was rare, if it had ever happened before. Both of them had even gone so far as to tell the Asset exactly what they were doing, so it was able to anticipate the discomfort when the arm was detached, or the sudden noises when the scanners had activated.

Under HYDRA, it would have been expected to remain still, without knowing what was coming next... when the real pain would start. Here, the only pain was where the shoulder-joint for the metal arm still pulled at the bones. That felt old and familiar, and was easy to endure.   
  
Pepper gave the air of an officer, commanding and overseeing, yet still doing so without cruelty. Like Tony, she was efficient and competent. There was an elegance to her, strength from her authority. It was admirable.

Steve... the Asset felt drawn to Steve, like a moth to a flame. A beacon of rightness in a world that it hadn't realised before was wrong. That had been the reason for its choice to free Steve from HYDRA, instead of simply fleeing on its own. An unfounded feeling, somehow known to be fact, that she deserved better.

He.

Steve had expressed clearly, earlier that day, that he preferred to be considered a man. It had been revealed to the Asset that Steve had somehow been altered to be female. Presumably in every physical way, why else would HYDRA wish to attempt to breed them?

The Asset understood this, perhaps more than it should.

It knew it was physically male, but was not permitted that identity. The Asset had no agency; it was a weapon not a person. Only people got to choose. It made sense that an agent who was made physically female against his will could choose to keep his male identity.

Although, it had been surprising and intriguing to hear Steve's plan, earlier. To turn what was done to him against HYDRA, by creating a female alias to hunt them through social media. It was not something the Asset would have thought of, and the Asset knew a great deal about strategy for hunting people... which meant Steve's assertion that HYDRA would not think of it was likely correct.

It could be difficult to see a female form, and use the male pronouns. The Asset would need to reinforce that thought-pattern.

A few flashes of memory had been returning to the Asset throughout the day. Little pieces of old missions. Flashes of conditioning and punishment. It recalled enough to know how thought-patterns were enforced. Repeating the facts, and experiencing pain when it so much as thought them incorrectly.

It thought of Steve, appearing female. It dug its fingernails into its right knee, the only real way it could cause itself pain in this 'safe' place.

Steve is male.

The wrong thought remained, so the Asset inflicted the pain again, this time drawing blood.

Steve is male.

"Please cease harming yourself," JARVIS' voice commanded.

The Asset complied.

"Please explain why you were harming yourself," JARVIS ordered.

"Attempting to reinforce correct thought-patterns," the Asset answered.

"Please explain," JARVIS ordered.

A rebellious thought flitted through the Asset's mind, suggesting it  _ not _ comply. JARVIS was not the Asset's handler. This was none of JARVIS' business.

Years of conditioning crushed that rebellious thought in less than a second.

He said please. It was a request, not an order, that rebellious part of his mind provided.

Requests are just veiled orders. Only people can choose.

"I was informed that Steve should be thought of as a man. I am attempting to ensure I do not mistakenly call him a woman."

A soft hum emanated from the speakers JARVIS communicated through. "Normally, such corrections are performed through habit, rather than punishment. I have added this to the list of mistreatments you have suffered under HYDRA, if you believe self-harm is an acceptable form of learning. Please do not harm yourself again."

The Asset blinked, surprised and confused. "I don't understand." If it wasn't to be punished when it was wrong, how could they hope to trust it?

"I am afraid my safeguarding protocols require that I inform Mr Stark of this development," JARVIS replied curtly.

Stark.

The Asset remembered that name.

\---


	14. Chapter 14

\---

"He did  _ what _ now?" Tony demanded, shocked. He had been about to go to bed for the night, thinking things had actually been looking up for a change, but now JARVIS had just told him that their resident former-HYDRA-mindslave was  _ hurting himself _ to try to  _ reinforce thought-patterns _ , so he didn't accidentally call Captain America 'she'.

Of all the weird shit, it's always what you least expect. Tony honestly wasn't sure if he should be impressed that the possibly-from-the-nineteen-forties HYDRA-brainwashed-assassin cared about a person's pronouns, or utterly horrified at how said brainwashed assassin had gone and decided to handle it.

"I believe this to be a result of HYDRA's mistreatment of him," JARVIS observed.

"Yeah, no shit Sherlock," Tony grumbled, dragging on a dressing gown over the underwear he'd been about to fall asleep in and wandering over to the computer in his room. He reviewed the security feed of what James had done, scowling all the while. Just because they were being cautious about what James had told them, didn't mean Tony didn't pretty much assume it was true. He wouldn't be shocked if it turned out to be a lie, but he didn't really think it was. The evidence they had so far lined up right in Tony's mind.

"Shall I begin a search for a suitable psychiatrist?" JARVIS offered.

"You ask that question way too often," Tony grumbled, thinking of the number of times JARVIS had tried to set him up with professional help. He'd seen one therapist after Afghanistan, because the SI board had basically forced him to, and he had no desire to share that much personal information with a stranger ever again. "But this time you might be right. This is top level, though, and I don't want  _ anyone _ even vaguely affiliated with SHIELD. You know why."

"Of course, sir," JARVIS replied, his snippy tone a bit more heated than usual, likely in disapproval of James' behaviour.

Where the hell did that sort of behaviour come from?

After only a second's pause, JARVIS spoke again, "You appear to have a visitor, sir."

Just then, the elevator dinged in the next room, and Tony glared bitterly at it. Who was bothering him at this hour? He walked out into the main room to find James standing just in front of the elevator doors.

"Stark?" he asked.

"Yeah, that's me," Tony answered.

"I know that name," James said, a confused frown on his face. "I started remembering things, and I remember that name. But it wasn't Tony."

"Who was it?" Tony asked, unwilling to give the information away in case this was a trick.

"Howard."

Tony cursed under his breath. It didn't mean anything. Everyone knew who his father was.

"I was ordered to kill him."

**_WHAT?!_ **

Tony had been expecting something about remembering Howard from before. It would either be true, or a good lie to tell if this man was only pretending to be who he looked like. Either way, it hadn't been entirely unlikely to come up eventually.

He had very much  _ not _ been expecting  _ this _ .

"I don't remember the mission, but I remember the order."

Tony grit his teeth, disgusted and desperately hoping this was bullshit. "What order?"

"Howard Stark, co-founder of SHIELD, unwilling to collaborate. I was ordered to kill him and steal a prototype- I- I don't remember what. No witnesses. Make it look like an accident."

It was like listening to a robot talking, reciting from rote... and not a good one like his AIs. But that didn't make it any better.

Tony  _ literally _ growled. "You killed my parents?"

He sent the signal to summon his suit. It was almost instinctive, the need to defend himself, to be ready to attack. But nothing happened. "Sir," JARVIS spoke, his 'I think you've had enough to drink' tone of voice in full effect, even though for once Tony was perfectly sober right now. "Might I remind you that our guest was an  _ unwilling _ servant HYDRA. We were  _ just _ discussing the aftermath of his mistreatment."

That only barely penetrated the haze of rage Tony was feeling.

"I don't remember the mission," James said quietly.

Without the suit, Tony wasn't  _ quite _ foolish enough to make the first move. "Why are you telling me this?" he demanded, instead.

"It seemed relevant. It makes you an enemy of HYDRA, as well."

"Is that a threat?" Tony snarled.

"No, it's a complement."

That broke the spell, and Tony positively choked on the unexpected direction this had taken. "You should have already known that, from my letting you stay here in the first place," he finally managed to say. He felt distant, like his mind was miles away, still trying to process the new information... but the blind rage had passed.

JARVIS was right. If any of this was true, then James was a victim, too.

A bitter part of Tony's mind resented the fact that James got to live, while his parents hadn't... but a far colder thought quickly followed that this meant he would also have to  _ live with it _ , and maybe that would hurt enough.

He took a moment to compose himself, exhaustion quickly swooping in to replace the rage, and he had to fight past that before he could speak again. When he finally turned back to meet James' expectant - and, he realised now, fearful - gaze, he forced himself to speak calmly. "You remember any other important names, especially people who gave you orders, you tell me or JARVIS, got it?"

James nodded curtly. Efficiently, like he was still so malleable after what HYDRA had done to him, and this was just another order he had no choice but to obey.

Tony dismissed him, then ordered JARVIS to lock down the penthouse, and made his way over to the liquor cabinet. He didn't have a normal fight or flight response, not really. When fighting didn't work, he got blind drunk instead. It was a  _ sort _ of fleeing, from the reality of the situation, right?

He had turned drinking away his problems into a fine art.

He now had no plans on waking up before five in the afternoon tomorrow. And if he was still sober then, he would consider it a failure.

\---

There was no way Steve was going to be able to sleep on that bed, not after the previous night.

So he took his cue from what JARVIS had said James did last night, and brought his blankets out into the living space of his suite and laid down on the couch.

It was still a bit awkward, with the breasts in the way, but he did manage to find a comfortable position to drift off, eventually.

He was in that hazy half-awake state, where one is blissfully unaware of the problems of real life, when he heard movement in the room... but for some reason, it didn't startle him. Rather, it seemed right.

Soft, measured footsteps, not intending to wake him, so he refused to let them. They circled the couch and he felt movement behind him. The feeling that this was right only grew, and he had no desire to resist as his arm was pulled back from where it had been precariously hanging over the edge of the couch, all but freezing. Now, instead, wrapped up warmly in a soft bundle of blankets.

The warm body he felt settle behind him was familiar. Safe and right. He instinctively leaned back into it, as an arm draped over his body, feeling content, protected... and drifted back to sleep.

He slept soundly, and woke feeling more rested than he could remember in a long time.

He was alone when he awoke, but that feeling of contentment stayed with him. He wasn't sure if he had dreamed it all, or if...

He and Bucky used to share a bed. Part from poverty, part for warmth. Steve had never admitted his - then considered deviant - tendencies to anyone, nor had Bucky ever given any indication of such thoughts. It had been purely platonic, but the comfort Steve had always taken from it had been real. Warmth and protection for his easily chilled and frail body. The knowledge that Bucky cared that deeply to comfort him.

He had been disappointed when Bucky had stopped doing it, after the serum. Even when they had shared close quarters in the war, Bucky had kept his distance. Steve had never found out why.

But now...

If James was Bucky, could he have done this? Would he? The couch was certainly large enough to accommodate the two of them, that close together. It had felt real, in a way few dreams ever did.

Far more real than the previous night's... nightmare.

He was reluctant to ask JARVIS. It would sound strange to ask something like that, if it did turn out to have been his imagination... on the other hand, if it  _ had _ happened, JARVIS would already know. That was a strange and uncomfortable thought. In spite of the relative innocence of it, there was a personal intimacy to it, as well.

But he had to know.

"JARVIS, did anyone else come into this room, last night?"

"No, Captain," JARVIS answered promptly.

Another dream, then. Still... infinitely preferable to the previous one.

Steve sighed, surprised to find he was disappointed. Logic and reason disagreed quite strongly with how he felt about it; if it had been real, it would have meant someone had snuck in here while he was sleeping, and that shouldn't have made him feel  _ safe _ the way it had.

But it was Bucky... and he was beginning to realise just how much he needed that. How desperately he wanted it to be true.

Steve grumbled under his breath, "Screw Tony's rules," before getting up from the couch he had slept on, with a plan.

\---

He found James in the gym again, training against the same punching bag again.

He seemed a bit more aggressive, this time, as if he was angry or upset about something and trying to work that out instead of just focusing on the exercise for its own sake.

Steve marched right up to him, undeterred by the foul mood he seemed to be projecting. James did stop when approached, and the only sign of that aggression remaining was a frown on his face as he turned to see what Steve wanted.

Steve pulled out his phone from his pocket, and opened it to a recent SHIELD publicity photo of himself, from a week after the Battle of New York. He was in his new 'armour', but without the cowl so it showed his face. Wordlessly, he handed it over to James, who accepted it and examined it, the frown turning from irritable, through confused, to thoughtful.

"This is you?" he asked, something distant in his tone.

Steve nodded curtly. He could hear an incredibly low hum from the speakers in the room, very faint, likely inaudible to an unenhanced person, but very gradually raising in pitch for a couple of seconds before abruptly stopping... as if JARVIS was expressing non-verbal disapproval.

James traced his thumb over the phone screen, which caused it to zoom in from a full-body image to just the face and upper torso - the star on the armour was right at the bottom of the picture, now. "I- I know this face," he said softly, still distant as if confused.

Steve waited patiently, watching as James tried to work it out... and eventually, after almost three full minutes, James all but whispered...

"I thought you were smaller?"

Steve felt tears welling up in his eyes at that, in spite of the fact that it sounded almost as though Bucky didn't even understand where those words came from.

Because there was no doubt, now;  _ this was Bucky _ .

Neither of them had ever shared that story in detail. It had always been retold as a heroic tale of victory over HYDRA, not the desperate reunion it had really been. Bucky's confused questions about Steve's transformation hadn't been among the list of embarrassing stories to share with their brothers in arms.

There had been plenty of embarrassing stories that didn't cut them both so deep.

The memory of finding his closest friend - the person he loved most in the world - so tortured, near death, washed over him at those words. He couldn't imagine what Bucky was thinking right now. Steve was literally choking on the memory, but Bucky's face was almost completely blank, save the slightly confused wrinkle of his brow.

Every instinct screamed to hug him... but he knew that was likely the worst thing he could do right now.

So instead, he forced himself to stop and think for a moment... and in his mind there was only one thing he could say in response to that. "I thought you were dead," he choked out, past the lump in his throat.

Bucky visibly flinched at the words, dropping the phone as he did so. Which meant they had some impact, though Steve still couldn't read anything from his expression. Then he turned away, not looking at Steve now, and ran his hand through his tangled hair, nails digging into his scalp halfway through, before shaking his head and walking away across the room. It was probably the most animated Steve had seen him since they'd escaped HYDRA.

Steve waited, knowing that maybe trying to make him remember had done more harm than good, but hoping that... he wasn't even sure what he was hoping for. Anything to say it was real.

"I don't-" Bucky started, before hesitating, shaking his head, and all but growling. "I  _ know _ you... but I don't  _ remember _ ." He spun around suddenly, staring at Steve. "And now you're-" he didn't seem to know how to finish that sentence, but the way his eyes ran over Steve's body with an expression close to bewilderment really said it all. "What happened to you?"

Hands out to the sides, like two days ago when he had approached the Hulk, Steve took a couple of slow steps towards Bucky, carefully avoiding the surprisingly-unbroken phone on the floor. "Same as you, I guess," he said, softly. "HYDRA got me."

For the longest time, Bucky stared at him, before blinking once, slightly too-slowly, and then looking away. His expression warring between confused, bitter, and... almost ashamed.

"What's wrong?" Steve asked cautiously.

"I don't know," Bucky answered, scowling at the floor. It seemed honest enough, but Steve felt sure there was far more to it. He waited, and after another very long wait, Bucky finally said, "I can't imagine a time  _ before _ HYDRA. But I know you  _ from _ before. It doesn't make sense, but it still feels right?" The way he looked up to meet Steve's eyes at that last somehow turned the words into a question. As though he was asking permission to feel the way he did.

Steve nodded slowly, carefully broadcasting his movement as he reached out to take Bucky's hand. Bucky allowed it, staring at their now-joined hands as if confused by them somehow. "It's okay, Bucky," he said. "We'll work it out. It'll be okay."

\---

The Asset still didn't quite understand.

It made sense that Steve was someone it knew; a handler from before HYDRA. That explained why it had felt so right to rescue him. To obey him.

But the idea of a 'before', however obviously true, still conflicted with the 'fact' that HYDRA was  _ supposed _ to be everything to the Asset. That was what it had  _ known _ , until now.

It was one thing to hate its handlers, its situation, its existence... it was another thing entirely to realise there was an alternative. There  _ had always been _ an alternative.

Resistance, it turned out, in spite of HYDRA's 'facts', was not useless.

And the fact the Asset  _ knew _ Steve proved that.

The Asset understood the concept of its trigger words; they existed to allow handlers to activate a desired mental state in the Asset - the two it knew of caused either submission or unconsciousness - but it had not remembered these words.

' _ I thought you were smaller _ '. It had said them before; the Asset  _ knew _ this, even if it couldn't remember. They had worked, though. It was a call and response. The other side had to be what Steve had said: ' _ I thought you were dead _ '. The Asset had  _ felt _ those words, somewhere deep, but not quite the same as the other trigger words.

The mental state those words evoked was... undefinable. The Asset wasn't supposed to experience emotional distress, but was fairly sure that this was what it felt like. It hurt, but there was something else as well... something good.

It found ' _ what happened to you _ ' familiar, too, just as the other two phrases had been... but felt nothing from Steve's response that time. It was now quite certain that there were other words from  _ before _ , now it knew  _ any _ had existed, but it still couldn't remember.

Steve  _ wanted  _ the Asset to remember. Tony wanted the Asset to remember.

HYDRA wanted the Asset to forget.

So the best option was to try, to work very hard, to remember.

It didn't occur to the Asset that its new handlers' desire for it to remember might mean there was no longer a use for the Chair. It still half-expected and entirely feared the possibility they might wipe it.

Touch was something the Asset was familiar with; HYDRA's technicians and agents had manhandled it often, and there had never been an option to resist; even to flinch away minutely was unacceptable... but when Steve took its hand, intertwining their fingers together, it felt different.

Until now, any physical contact between the two of them had been initiated by the Asset, for practical purposes only; to carry his unconscious body, to help him dress... but now, Steve had chosen to reach out and touch the Asset, with no clear goal.

Touch for its own sake was not something the Asset was familiar with.

The Asset felt drawn to Steve. This, it knew from the first moment it had laid eyes upon him. Now it knew a bit more, and it found that it  _ liked _ this touch. Steve's grip on its hand; firm but not painful - the slight squeeze of his fingers, almost comforting.

The Asset's response to this touch, and to Steve's words, was not familiar - it was not approved by HYDRA's 'rules' and 'facts' - but it felt right to not merely nod and accept it, but also to smile. Not the bared teeth of a predator striking for the kill, not the sneer or smirk of attempting to diffuse the situation with humour (only approved as a 'last resort' tactic before turning to violence, in undercover work), but a genuine display of positive emotion.

The Asset felt sincerely comforted by Steve's words, even though it didn't quite know why.

It  _ knew _ , with more certainty than it had ever known anything HYDRA taught it, that when Steve made a promise it would be kept, and nothing on Earth would be able to stand in his way.

\---


End file.
